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SIMLA 



A TALE OF LOVE 



BY 
STANWOOD COBB 

Author of 

"THE REAL TURK," 

"AYESHA OF THE BOSPHORUS." 

•• THE ESSENTIAL MYSTICISM " 




THE CORNHILL COMPANY 
BOSTON 






Copyright, 1919, by 
THE CORNHILL COMPANY 



All rights reserved 



(0)CU586667 



APR 23 1^20 



r4 







DEDICATED TO 

MY FATHER, 

ARTIST AND SEER, 
WHOSE FAITH HAS BEEN 

TO THOUSANDS 
A FOUNT OF INSPIRATION 



FOREWORD 

What is love? how moves its force 

Upon the human frame? What course 

Does it pursue? how does it spend 

Its power? For what end 

Is it bestowed on man? 

All that our human wisdom can 

Discover as the cause of love, 

Whether it is a gift above 

All others by the gods bestowed; 

Or whether a mere madness owed 

To our mortality, — all this 

Has failed to analyse the bliss 

Of love, or love's deep tragedy. 

If of this theme again, I try 

To sound the depths, I pardon sue 

For claiming to present the clue 

To love where many others failed. 

Yet on that ocean where there sailed 

Full many ships, one was the first 

Upon the western land to burst: 

One man, discoverer, unfurled 

His flag upon an unknown world 

And made it known. So there may be 

Of success some possibility 

To all who try. 



FOREWORD 

We do but seek 
Of earthly and of heavenly love to speak. 
It is a theme as old as human life, 
Since first man sought in wife 
That comradeship which nothing else 
Can give. But the antiquity repels 
Me not of such a theme. It is old — 
It is young too. For there have rolled 
New cycles o'er the world since then, — 
New thoughts, new love, as men 
Are new and different. And ever new 
The centuries will evolve ; and few 
Of mortal things but suffer change. 
And from the lesser to the higher range 
Of beauty grow. 

So there is still a place 
In Fortune's niche for books of love. 
What my words and thoughts may prove 
As to love's essence, I know not. 
I only know that keen and hot 
My eager heart within me burns, 
My poet's wings the low air spurns. 
To try this flight into the realm 
Of love. If disaster overwhelm 
Me, as of old one who did dare 
Too high to soar, no one need share 
Misfortune with me. But if I can show 
What love is, if my rhymes bestow 



FOREWORD 

A glimpse of truth, then well content 
To serve the world my skill is spent. 
Here is the story, mark it well, 
As Brahmin legend doth it tell. 



PREFACE 

Some will read Simla for its story of love 
and devotion. But those will not err who see 
in it a presaging of the harmonizing of Oriental 
asceticism with the New World love of action 
and love of life. 

Simla represents the highest that Hindu 
thought achieved; Sita, the New Truth that 
reconciles flesh and spiritj love and life, the 
world and the soul. The analyzing of life is 
from the East, but the practice of living from 
the West — and the two wedded yield an ideal 
and perfect civilization. 



TABLE OF CONTENTS 



^AGE 

Foreword v 



PART I 
The Birth of Love 1 

PART II 
LoTE Grown Familiar . 65 

PART III 
Love's Greatest Quest 80 



SIMLA 

Part One 

THE BIRTH OF LOVE 

Simla sat in the forest tall. 

Buttressed in like some great hall 

With walls of living green. Here peace 

Reigned all the year; and ne'er did cease 

The spell of nature on the heart 

Of forest lover. It was Simla's part 

To tend the sacred fires, and sweep each day 

The little hut which wisdom's sway 

Proclaimed as Yogi hermitage. 

Here Chelu, reverenced as sage, 

Taught the Vedas to his son, 

And what of truth his prayers had won 

As special gifts from God. 

Today 

Simla had dropped his boyish play 

And sat absorbed with puckered brow, 

All rapt in thought. So fast can grow 

The mind of child to mind of man 

1 



2] SIMLA 

That the most anxious parents can 
With difficulty mark the day 
When childish thoughts have passed away ; 
And when the deeper truths of life 
Commence in the youth's soul a strife 
Of longing the unknown to know — 
New manly powers of thought to show — 
Seeking a comradeship with age. 

So Simla turning to the sage 

Chelu, his sire, for the first time pled 

For knowledge. Puzzled and slow he said : 

" Father, tell me qi life's mystery. 

Whence do we come? Why do we die? 

Who has created this great world 

About which all the stars are whirled 

In nightly splendor? And what gives man 

The power that great gulf to span 

Of dark and dreadful stellar space, 

So that he fears not heaven's face 

To gaze upon ; and dares pray Brahm 

To shield and save him from all harm? " 

Chelu gazed in Simla's eye. 
Glad that his youthful son should try 
To pierce the mystery of life ; glad 
For this awakening, — yet sad 
Somewhat at the inevitable thought. 
These years which Simla wisdom brought 
Must also take away his son 



SIMLA [S 

Soon from him, his own course to rim. 

A few more lessons — a few runes 

Of occult teaching — a few moons 

Swift passing — and the youth he cherished 

here 
Would leave him, marching without fear 
Into life's battles. So the stars declared. 
They told the time when Simla fared 
On his own destiny as near at hand. 
Like one who at the sea's curved strand 
Waits eagerly to embark. 

And the sire, 
Knowing that even loving sons will tire 
Some day of sitting at the feet of age 
And learning theory from lips of sage ; — 
Knowing how life goes and how each youth 
When his time comes, must leave the Truth 
Of the pure forest-teaching for the life 
Of action, and there take his part in strife 
And ardor of achievement, — knowing this. 
He saddened at the breaking of the bliss 
Of forest harmony and silence. And yet 
As a wise parent he would set 
No bars to freedom when that day approached, 
Lest he by destiny should be reproached 
For claiming his son's life as his own, — 
When Brahm had simply deigned to loan 
Chelu for two decades' joy 
This sweet and eager-learning boy. 



4] SIMLA 

Should he be jailer to his son 
And hold him, when the Fates now spun 
Adventures new and hopes faint hid? 
Such parental selfishness the gods forbid! 

So Chelu, smiling on that face 

So lit with love and wisdom's grace, 

Said, — " Simla, sit here by my side 

And ere the evening shadows hide 

The forest spaces, I will try, well 

As my wisdom aids, to tell 

The cause of life, — the birth of world 

On world in nightly splendor whirled — 

The nature of existence — how to meet 

Life's mazes with unerring feet — 

And how in each thing to discriminate 

Between false Maya and the truths of Fate." 

Then Chelu, praying to the gods for aid. 

These words of wisdom to his pupil said : — 



CHELU'S DISCOURSE ON LIFE 

" Life springs from life — 

Nor can we find a time 

When life upon this earth existed not. 

And back of life the Cause, — 

And back of that 

Naught is. For the Cause 



SIMLA [5 

Is causeless, 

Not to be divided further. 

Inexplicable, Brahm sits upon his throne 

As First in time and First in power. 

No partner shares his tasks. 

Nor equals that Divinest Lord, 

That pure Essence, — - 

Simplicity of manifold. 

Infinite in variety yet changeless, 

One and Only Substance, 

Cosmic Light. 

Now Being changeless lay, — 
Until a stir of longing, sacrifice-desire, 
Flaming within its central core — 
Tapas, the fire of Love — 
Awoke the germ of New Becoming, 
That there might be created others 
To share existence and to thank 
Brahm for being; to enjoy the Light 
That, streaming in undimmed brilliance, 
Is older than the ancient gods, 
More lasting than eternity. 

So Brahm, 

One quarter of Him manifesting. 

Created space. 

Filled it with suns and constellations, 

Breathed upon planets. 



6] SIMLA 

Set in motion that great play 
Of life, which dazzles sight 
And the brain bewilders. 



So began that game, Existence, 
Whose stakes are infinite, 
Whose gains and losses overwhelm 
Man's imagination. 

Here, the intricate labyrinth, Life : — 

The turmoil and confusion of the world, 

Joys, sorrows, victories, despair; 

Contendings, struggles. 

Hatred and destruction ; 

Love, service, godliness and peace, — 

From all emerging progress tow^ard perfection. 

That far goal, 

At once the cause and end 

Of Life. 



There, the immutable Brahm, 
Causeless and uncausing, 
Undescending into all strife 
Of mortals : 

Supreme, unknowable, of whom 
Neither existence 
Nor non-existence 
Can be predicated. 



SIMLA [7 

Simla, make it thy aim 

To leave the Here, 

And in the There to make thy home, — 

There above clouds of darkness ; 

There where changeless Light 

Floods over all its quenchless rays. 

Learn to know This as Maya, 

That as Bliss; 

To see through obscure veils the form beneath, 

Transcending space, cleaving to the Soul 

Of Matter and regarding not the husks. 

Learn to behold the senses' Dance 

With the true insight. 

Fair and dazzling though it be, 

Let not thy Self grow dizzy 

From its mazy whirls. 

Join in the dance — 

For such is fate to every mortal — 

That in its ecstasy some hint may be 

Of greater glory and of bliss superb." 



Thus Chelu taught his son of truth. 
Unfolding life, showing forth proof 
Of Brahm's existence, of the soul, 
And telling of that distant goal 
Toward which evolves the human race. 
And yearly Simla grew in grace 



8] SIMLA 

And from his father wisdom learned ; 
And for all the grief that burned 
The heart of mortal, sought to get 
Solution. But of love, naught 
To the fair youth his father taught, 
Knowing Life teaches in a day 
More than all theory can say. 
Until the heart has tasted of its bliss 
No man can know what thing love is. 

So they two lived, day after day, 
And time passed joyously away 
Beneath the forest's checquered shade. 
The game of life was wisely played, 
As sages play to win the stake 
That can at last the spirit take 
From darkness, from Avidya, — free 
It from flesh and let it see 
The Light of Knowledge and attain 
To spirit's heaven, Devachan. 

So Simla grew — until the trace 
Of a soft down upon his face 
Proclaims him man. His brow is high. 
His glance now resolute, now shy ; 
His mouth as tender as a girl's; 
And on his temples the dark curls 
Framing an oval cheek, are such as fire 
The heart of maiden. Sure his sire 
Simla prized above all being; 



SIMLA [9 

And his eye rejoiced in seeing 
Simla changed from boy to man ; 
Oft his face and form he'd scan. 
And his each new and virile art 
Brought joy to a fond father's heart. 

Now one day Simla, at the flush 
Of sunset, burst his way through bush 
And bramble to the holy place 
Where Chelu sat, rapt in the grace 
Of Yogi meditation ; there 
Where he was wont to fill the air 
With incense, — a blessed spot 
Shielded by banyan shade from hot 
Fire-rays of the tropic sun. 

The offering done. 

The sage turned fondly to his son 

Who flung himself at Chelu's side. 

" Father, what thinkest thou," he cried, 

" Within the forest's leafy maze 

Met this day my startled gaze? 

A creature new and strangely clad! 

No man ! for dainty limbs it had. 

And a fair stream of living gold 

Down its head and shoulders flowed. 

I saw it run through bush and tree, 

Until it went as suddenly 

As it had come. 



10] SIMLA 

I could not tell 
Why a shudder on me fell, 
As if some mighty force there lay 
Within that dainty fleeting play 
Of limbs, and hair adown the breeze 
Floating like mosses from the trees. 
I chased as I've not chased before, 
And yet my strength availed no more ; - 
For suddenly a weakness came 
Over my limbs and through my frame ; 
So fiercely beat my heart, its stroke 
Began to strangle and to choke 
The breath within me, and I lay 
Exhausted — while it dashed away. 

Father, what is it? Dost thou know. 
Thou, whom wisdom favors so? 
Surely no form unknown to thee 
Ranges through flower, shrub and tree. 
Tell me of it — make it clear — 
And resolve this strange new fear 
That changes my once joy of life, 
Into a fierce, ungoverned strife ! '* 

Chelu heaved a heavy sigh. 
For once avoided his son's eye, — 
And uttered, looking at the ground: 
" I can't explain what you have found. 
Go ! Watch the forest day and night, 
Tell me when next it meets thy sight. 



SIMLA [11 

And then perhaps I will make plain 

The problem to thy puzzled brain." 

He said no more but walked away 

Musing within himself all day. 

Seeing the time at last arrive 

When Simla with the world must strive, — 

Alone, unaided, face to face, 

Smitten by beauty's powering grace. 



Three days had passed, and through them all 

Simla heard not the glad bird's call. 

Watched not the sunlight creep its way 

To brighten flower and fountain's spray, 

Nor heeded his four-footed friends, 

Whose dumb needs he daily tends. 

He ever walked as in a dream 

Or sat beside the fountain's gleam, 

Recalling with a rapt delight 

The strange being that had met his sight. 



Until upon the fourth day's noon 

He came home smiling, and once more in tune 

With nature's beauty and her grace, — 

A new mystery in his face 

Which his tongue would fain disclose 

To Chelu, who already knows 

His son has seen that strange unknown 

Which Simla into such distress had thrown. 



12] SIMLA 

" Father, sit thee down a while — 

For I your ear would fain beguile 

With the news of what I've seen. 

Deep within the forest screen, 

As I wandered toward the lake 

Where the deer their thirst must slake — 

Again between the trees so green 

I saw that fair form in a sheen 

Of white, dancing its way 

To where the lake all sparkling lay. 

I hastened, but when I reached the shore 

That fair sight was seen no more; 

But I saw the garments' gleam 

And a ripple in the stream. 

Which as I watched revealed the form 

Of the creature I had known. 



It sported in the water's lea; 

Its limbs shone white; and gracefully, 

More agile than the deer that swim, 

Or squirrel's leap from limb to limb. 

At last it swam ashore. And then 

A glorious vision reached my ken; — 

For as it waded from the deep 

To where the shore inclined less steep, 

I saw its satin gleam of flesh. 

Softer than cobwebs that enmesh 

The dew-drops for the morning sun. 



SIMLA [13 

And now its water-gambols done, 
It stood all bathed in sunlight ray 
Proudly as peacock and as gay. 
Its tresses rippled in the breeze 
Almost to its dimpled knees. 
So like a man, yet different, too, 
The form presented to my view: 
Less vigor and less brawn of frame, 
All rounded softness like the tame 
Roe-deer that eats from out my hands. 
And like the deer it trembling stands 
As if about to start and run 
At my least noise or motion. 



I longed to rush upon the strand, 
To stroke it with my ardent hand, 
To feel its softness and its grace 
And nearer look into its face. 
But I feared to fright it. So, 
Hidden I staid there, kneeling low 
Behind the leafy ambuscade 
That my happy refuge made. 
I watched it preening in the heat, 
Lifting lightly now its feet. 
Turning now to face the sun ; — 
And constantly new glimpses won 
Of dainty limbs, and swelling breast 
Like the billow's curving crest 
Before it breaks up into spray 



14] SIMLA 

And dashes gloriously its way 
Shoreward. 

And as the foam 
Subsides and turns back home 
To the great ocean, no more seen — 
So vanished through the leafy screen 
Of forest-gloaming this fair sight, 
That on my senses such a might 
Of drawing lay, as draws the bee 
To flower, or the moaning sea 
Moonward at full of tide. 

For as I watched, it seemed to glide 

Gradually away and disappear; 

No slightest rustle could I hear 

From its soft motion ; warm and still 

The hot air lay upon the lake. 

Was it a dream and did I wake 

To find it false? Or had my eyes 

Again obtained the happy prize 

Of vision, such as turned before 

My heart to fire and brought it store 

Of anguish these three days to dwell 

Within me? Father, Guru, tell 

Me now this mystery ; and rid 

My heart of all that's hid 

Within it, like some poison slow 

That doth to greater power grow 

Each day. What is it? Say, dear Sire! 



SIMLA [15 

Chelu near wept to see the fire 
Of anguish lighting his son's eye ; 
And yet it was not time to try 
Such mystery to explain. No word 
He said, but silently transferred 
His gaze to heaven; sent a prayer 
Upon the holy listening air 
Of Atamon, where sage's thought 
Is nearer to the devas brought 
Than elsewhere in the Brahmin land. 
Then Chelu turned and took the hand 
Of Simla, lovingly and long, 
Within his grasp: 

" Go, dearest child ; 
Bear with you still this tumult wild 
For seven days. The devas tell 
My anxious heart all will be well 
By then. I promise to explain 
The puzzle that your soul would fain 
Resolve. For now, it cannot be. 
Once again it is thy fate to see 
The forest Beauty. Then the whole 
Deep mystery will be clear, — 
The meaning you at last shall hear 
Of this strange tumult in thy breast, 
And thy troubled soul shall rest 
At last in peace." 

So Chelu spoke 
For so the favoring gods awoke 



16] SIMLA 

His intention to respond. 

He did not know what lay beyond 

The present, but he safely felt 

That all the future outcome dwelt 

With heaven ; and no worry need 

Afflict him — did he ever heed 

The voice of heaven as he daily strived 

To do. 

At last the time arrived 
The gods had promised. Without fail 
Simla the third time brings his tale 
To Chelu — his cheeks all fire, 
His hot hands hinting to his sire 
Of love's fever. Fast and hot 
The words burst from him, halting not : 
" This morning as I gladly ran 
Within the forest's leafy span 
Again this glad sight met my eyes. 
Of patience the reward and prize — 
Though tardy, — for full seven days 
Have I sought a thousand ways 
This Being, woven of pure light, 
As glad as sunshine to my sight. 
But since I saw it by the lake. 
No matter how my course I take. 
Along the vales and murmuring streams ; 
In dusky dells where sunlight streams 
Like rays from Brahma through the blue ; 
Up mountain sides, where eaglets mew, 



SIMLA [17 

Up to the topmost pinnacle I strove 
But naught I found save murmuring grove. 
And streamlets dashing down the course 
Beaten to spray in their mad force. 

Father, so desolate I felt 

Sadly did I yearn to melt 

Like spray, to lose myself up there 

So near to heaven, — there where Brahm 

Seems to close in and shield from harm 

The listening soul of life. Alas, 

That all my gladness thus should pass 

To sorrow and to yearning pain. 

Which naught could conquer save again 

To see my Golden Glory burst 

Upon me, as it did that first 

And gladsome day, — day to recall 

With musing, on memory's breast to fall. 

So, father, have I passed twice four 

Sad days, dreaming that I never more 

Should see my vision beautiful. 

So I was sad until this morn, 

Trailing sadly and forlorn 

The forest road, I reached the place 

Where two waters interlace 

Their dew-drops in one glistening spray. 

Reflecting the white light of day 

Into a dazzling rainbow sheen 

Of colors, like jewels in the forest green. 



18] SIMLA 

Beneath the water-fall there lies 

A glade all hallowed from strange eyes 

By range of firs that close around 

The soft moss-carpeted ground 

Like fairy circle; made for joy, 

Made to shut out all annoy, 

And to soothe a sorrowing mind 

That nowhere else could comfort find. 

This I discovered but a few days ago 

As I wandered to and fro 

With sadness haunted, through the glow 

Of forest stillness. 

But this morning, lo! 
As I approached the magic spot 
The blood beat at my temples hot, — 
For there upon the mossy brim 
My eye caught through the distance dim 
That fairy form, that burst of gold 
That seemed all heaven's light to hold. 
There my Golden Glory lay 
Upon the turf; in sportive play 
She garlands wove for her pet hind. 
Where gracefully her limbs reclined 
I envied moss ; and water, too. 
That felt her impress or had view 
Of that fair form than gods more blest, 
Yet hostile to my soul's pure rest. 
What should I do? If I advanced 
To where upon the green she danced 



SIMLA [19 

Around her hind all garlanded, 
I knew full well she would have sped 
Again, as erstwhile, through the glade; 
Again my golden dream would fade, 
And like to bubbles full of light. 
Now sparkle, now dissolve from sight. 

But heaven to my assistance came. 

For as I viewed her graceful frame. 

And poured my sighs upon the air 

The more the zephyrs kissed her hair,— 

There, mute and waiting as I stood 

A sense of danger changed my mood. 

Immediate then I heard her cries. 

Shrilling of danger and surprise. 

I looked up and saw a serpent coiled 

About her hind, and in its fold 

Smothering the beloved pet 

In close embrace and closer yet. 

Until his eyes stood from its head. 

And in a moment it were dead. 

But leaping over cliffs, past trees, 

I pushed through brambles, and there on my 

knees 
I spoke the Mantra, — sacred spell 
You gave me, that had served so well 
In danger. It now availed me naught ! 
Then about the neck I caught 
The monster, strangling it so 
That at last it must let go 



20] SIMLA 

Its mighty folds, and helpless lay 

A bruised and quivering mass of clay. 

The hind, now panting on the ground, 
A new art in its mistress found 
Of pity and of beauteous grace. 
A divine radiance lit her face, 
As clasping in her arms the pet 
Tears of joy and weakness met. 
And from excitement all so soon 
Resolved, she fell into a swoon. 
Her arms still clasped about the hind, 
Her hair dishevelled in the wind. 
Her face as marble white and pure. 
Her form so full of sv/eet allure 
Lay still and quiet on the ground ; 
And from her parted lips no sound 
Or breathing spoke of life. Dismayed, 
I there a dreadful moment stayed. 
Chafing her brow and shaking her ; 
Yet still she lay and did not stir. 

Then methought of water's charm 

To revive and free from harm 

The body worn out with fatigue. 

Or where death with life would league. 

And so I dashed off to the brook 

And a brimming handful took 

Of the water pure and cold. 

As much as my two hands would hold; 



SIMLA [ai 

And careful, stepped o'er stone ana stick 

And forged my way through brier thick 

Again to her and in her face 

The water dashed. Once more the grace 

Of color lit her cheeks. Her eyes 

Looked forth again in wild surprise 

Upon the world, and her sweet breast 

Heaved as with bitter weight oppressed. 

But soon she smiled, a smile 

That seemed in heaven to bide awhile 

Before it dawned on earth. 

I stroked her forehead as she lay 
Smiling in her glad sweet way ; 
And to show her gratitude, 
Dimples her dear features wooed. 
And all her grief and danger quelled 
Her fear of me seemed now dispelled 
And she no longer tried to run, 
But lay beneath the golden sun. 
Her hair more golden, and her ways 
Past the poets' mead or praise. 
Presently she sat up and gazed 
At me until, my senses dazed, 
I could do naught but gasp and smile. 
Then, finding courage all the while. 
My hand her velvet cheek caressed, 
Softer than the eagle's breast. 

Her head she gently let to rest 
Upon my shoulder. Her dear eyes. 



22] SIMLA 

Full of the warmth of summer skies, 
Dwelt on me — till I could but gasp 
At the joy that lay within our grasp. 
Father, it melted all my being quite, — 
And in my veins the old sullen fight 
Yielded to flow^ of golden bliss. 
Then slow her soft lips drew to kiss 
My own. 
As roses blown 

By summer breezes dizzily sway 
This way or that — so my heart lay 
A helpless moment, buoyed and filled 
By ecstasies that through it thrilled, 

I seemed to know not what I did 

When her lips' perfume gently slid 

Upon my lips. Our souls close grew, 

One mightyj impulse through us drew,— 

Till my dazed spirit scarcely knew 

Whether it were I who lay 

Upon her breast and felt the play 

Of heart-beat quickened there. 

Or whether I had melted into air, — 

A zephyr-joy, a breath of glee. 

Was I I, and was she she? 

Or was I she, and had her soul in me 

Crept softly in and dispossessed 

At that strange moment when we kissed ! 

O father, I would gladly give 
The sorrows which I had to live 



SIMLA [23 

These many days, if I but knew 
This joy I felt was true and sure 
From the gods sent, and would endure! 
But if it's but a moment's joy, — 
While all the mediate days annoy 
My heart, as now has been 
Since first my treasure I have seen, 
Father, I know not what to do ! 
Must this be so my whole life through? 

Already I have lost the glow 

Of ecstasy — which so little while ago 

Upbuoyed me. And I can hardly wait 

Until the hours revolve their fate 

Once more a weary se'nnight, — 

For then I meet ray dear delight 

Again by her command. Though I pled 

Bitter for earlier day, she gainsaid 

My plea, and homeward turned her way. 

And when I sought to follow, ' Nay ! ' 

She said, ' It must not be ' — smiled 

And was gone, leaving me this tumult wild. 

Now, father, you must tell me all. 
Explain this fever, list the call 
My helpless spirit makes to you — 
To you, my father, guide. Guru." 
Chelu smiled deep upon his son — 
" How powerful has now begun 
The hold of love upon you ! I knew 



24] SIMLA 

The time for love and marriage drew 
Towards its fulfillment — for love it is 
That thrills you with this subtle bliss, 
And it is woman who has shown 
To you the magic men have known 
Since Eve first smiled on Adam. 

But first, 
Before I can explain this thirst 
Of fever in your veins, I must 
Make clear how man differs from the dust 
Of earth which constitutes his frame. 
Think you Man had sent his fame 
Through earth and heaven, if his role 
Were to obey the body, not the soul.'^ 
And so to thee I must unfold 
The mystery of spirit, and the hold 
Earth makes upon it. 
Come! While the dusk lasts, sit 
Beside me here and let me pour 
Heaven's wisdom for you in this twilight hour." 
So Chelu f avoringly spoke — 
And into Being these great truths awoke. 



CHELU'S DISCOURSE ON THE SOUL 

" Learn now of the spark 
Within thee. 
God-Man is it called. 



SIMLA [25 

Purusha, image of Deity ; 
Smaller than a mustard seed, 
Larger than the universe, 
Great in small, 
Atman, Self, Hiranyagarbha, 
Golden glow of life, and spark 
From Brahm. 

Learn, oh Son, the nature of thy soul 

And thou art freed from all the bonds 

Of earth's enchantment. 

Look around thee: below, above. 

All that the eye discerns. 

All that the senses catch. 

The trees, the brooks. 

Earth, air, and seas. 

And living forms that they do hold ; 

Atmospheres, 

Sun and moon. 

And stars. 

And the infinite glorious distances beyond, — 

All This thou art; 

All This doth lie concealed 

Within thee, if thou but knew. 

For the Self is all, and This is less than all. 

The Self is Brahm, — 

And This, the phenomenal existence. 

Is but the exudation of His thought. 

To see thyself as creature and as part 
Of the Around-world, — 



26] SIMLA 

This is Maya, 

This is the Veil, 

This is the senses' dazzle; 

Earth's illusion, 

Desire-source, 

Path that leads in Mazes 

Ever back upon itself; 

Cause of pain and sorrow 

Chaining existence to existence, — 

Moksha never thus attained. 

Behold the masses 

Flinging themselves into the sea of life ; 

Drunken, reckless, 

Grasping for possessions. 

Bent on gain. 

Heedless of Brahm and Self. 

See them store up in dreadful ignorance 

An evil Karma, recking 

Themselves as free who are but slaves 

To hot and mad desire ; 

Recking themselves as slaves 

Who, if they knew, were free 

To rule and govern gloriously 

All the Around-world. 

Such is the life 

Of them who know not the Within-world. 
Spiritual eyes they have, and see not ; 
Ears they have for inner guidance, and hear 
not; 



SIMLA [27 

Senses clairvoyant for the scent and touch 

Of faery forms 

Grown in garden glades of spirit. 

Yet so dense a veil 

Of Maya all-infolds them. 

That they live as one 

Born deaf and dumb and blind 

From out his mother's womb. 

But be thou 

A citizen of two worlds. 

Live in the world about thee; 

Descend into the shocks of life ; 

Fight the good fight, but not 

As men fight who forget their God. 

Learn to know men, see 

Their passions, 

Read their motives. 

Learn to play upon the mighty organ pipes 

Of life. Learn to lead 

And rule the human world. 

But live also in the world 

Of dreams. 

Be as a bird that soars 

From earth to sky. 

To lose itself in airy regions 

Where the gods live. 

Above the world of time and space 

Atman ever dwells — 



28] SIMLA 

As in spaces measureless, 
As in eternal day. 

Yet mystery of mysteries 

I tell thee, 

Who can list my words 

But understand their import 

Not until thy spiritual rebirth 

Hear thou what I say 

And mark it down upon thy memory-soul ; 

That man may live in these two worlds 

At one and the same time. 

God-man and world-man, 

One-in-twain, 

Shall live upon this earth 

Harmoniously, joyously, immortally, 

When all do learn of Truth. 



Now do I impart to thee 

The way to Moksha, to Deliverance; 

The means by which 

Thou art to learn of Self 

And learn of Brahm 

As union and identity. 

It is through sense-control 
And sense awakening. 
Bind the senses, shut them in; 
And also free the senses. 
Gratify their every whim. 



SIMLA [29 

But here a mystery lies. 

He who would this puzzle read 

Must know of senses 

Other than the senses known. 

Must as discoverer 

Explore new lands, 

And find within himself 

New powers, new riches, and new opportunities. 

Earth-senses bind, 

Heaven-senses loose; 

Close eyes and ears, 

Forget the world ; 

Open eyes and ears 

Where dawns the super-world,^ — ■ 

Super-man to be. 

Super-senses to develop, 

Super-destiny to find. 



DISCOURSE ON THE THREE AGES 

OF MAN 

Now will I teach thee 
Of man's three ages. 
According to the plan of Manu — 
Law-giver unto mortals. 

First, the forest claims thee 
As Chela, blest disciple 



30] SIMLA 

Of some Guru, spiritual master, 

Who shall teach thee of the ways of truth. 

Here thou dost dwell. 

Here spend thy days 

In service to thy lord, — 

Building his fires. 

Sweeping his hearth, 

Cooking his simple meals ; 

And at dawn and dusk 

Paying sacrifice unto the gods. 

As thou dost consecrate thy body 

In material service to thy lord, 

So must thou consecrate thy mind and soul 

Unto his guidance, 

Listening to his wise words. 

Learning from his lips the Vedas, 

Sacred books ; 

Learning from him the Vedanta knowledge, 

Too great for common mortals 

But revealed to Brahmans. 

So he plays upon thy soul, 
Thy Guru, 

As on an instrument in delicate attune 
With the divine ; 

Opens thy stops, sets all thy being 
In vibration to the Cosmic rhythm, — 
The same to which the stars move in their 
course. 



SIMLA [31 

And to which the planets circle in mysterious 

love 
Around their Sun — 
Inner law, outer law 
Both one. 

Here thou dost learn, too, 
How freedom lies in strict obedience 
Unto the law. 
For when thy wish 
Is Brahm's wish, 
Then is it free as yonder bird, 
That spurns the ground 
And cleaves the air against the claims of 
gravity. 

But when thy wish is for non-good, for self, 

Then is it shackled. 

Then the mighty force 

Of all creation — 

That force which upholds the constellations m 

their places — 
Dost crush thee, — 
First gently persuading thee to yield 
Thyself unto its current; 
Then, if thou yieldest not. 
Dashing thee in a mad torrent 
The speed of which man vainly deems his own 

will-force. 
Until he learns too late 



32] SIMLA 

His course is not his own. 
No will, no power to resist 
The mighty karmic force 
That bears him on 
To final ruin. 

Not so the course of him 

Wlio follows Dharma, 

Duty's call. 

To him the Law is guide and comrade, 

Master and Lover, 

Transcendental Power, 

Perfect Mate. 

For him the planets bend their course, 

The stars conspire to serve, 

And Destiny awaits him in far harbors of the 

soul, — 
Magnificent, cosmic, kind 
Unto her servant. 
Accepting his soul's consecration, 
And aiding him to work his cherished part 
In universal life. 

Son, obey the Law, 

Seek for its counsel. 

Listen to its voice. 

And follow every guidance. 

This the truth that I, 

Thy Guru, 

Have strived to teach thee. 



SIMLA 

Peace, peace be unto thee ; 
Peace in Brahm. 



When twenty summer suns have filled their 

course, 
And youth to manhood turns, 
Begins for him the second stage 
Of life. 

Then waits for him 
A wife, glorious mate 
To soothe his cares, 
To share his sorrows, 
To create for him, in return for love, 
Fair radiant beings 
To bear his name and power 
To posterity. 

Here lies a mystery, 

Greatest mystery the body knows, — • 

That woman may create 

Even as Brahm doth; 

May enfold, within-form. 

And then manifest to light of day, 

New beings with immortal souls. 

To such a mystery 

Fitting it is that love should be 

The great Initiator. 

This it is that in thy frame 



34] SIMLA 

Has wakened such a tumult, 
Stirred thy blood to madness, 
Stolen all thy peace of life; 
And shown thee such a spectacle 
Of Maya beautj'^, 
That thy soul, dazzled. 
Would fain rush in 
And join the whirling mazes 
Of the dance. 

Love, the great Illusioner, 

Take it now for guide, 

And let it lead thee through the Maya-world. 

Fear not ! It is destiny 

For thee. 

Full well I knew when twenty years ago 

I entered these domains. 

That the time would come 

When Love would make thee prisoner — 

Love would steal thee from me — 

Love would bind thee close 

To woman 

And lead thee back into the world. 

Go, fulfill thy second stage 

As house-holder. 

And leave me free to forest meditation, 

Alone with Brahm, 

Alone with my Divinest Lord, 

Even as one day 



SIMLA [35 

Thou too shalt claim 

Thy Brahmin right 

To meditate alone upon the ways of God. 

House-holder now thou art, 

Parent to become. 

Propagator of the race. 

Free thou hast been within these forest ranges, 

Free to seek silence, 

Free to think on Brahm ; 

Free of sex, as seraph souls 

That sing before the sacred throne. 

Now thou art no longer free. 

The mantras that I gave thee 

Avail thee not, 

As thou didst find when serpent power 

Defied thy might. 

Then thou wert forced 

From spirit-power toward earthly power to 

descend. 
Such is love. 

It awakens latent forces of the Maya-Self. 
It develops to the highest point 
The self that is to lose itself in God. 
Fear not, it is the path to Moksha. 
Even though it seems to turn away 
And wander amid pleasure fields 
Low-lying, far from spirit's mountain-peaks, 



36] SIMLA 

Love of man leads ultimately 
Into love of God. 



Go, bring forth children, 

Learn unselfishness, 

Devotion, loyalty. 

Tender sympathy and care. 

Learn to find freedom in bondage unto Dharma. 

For truly as the stars sing in their destined 

course, 
So thou shalt find a joy 
Within the prison of the flesh 
Which love makes, — 
Love, the gaoler. 
Love, 
Keeper of the soul for God. 

Third stage, as forest hermit 

To retire from the world 

In God-like meditation. 

Here are wrought out all those truths, 

That inner essence of religion. 

The Aranyakas. 

Here, above Maya dwelling, 

Freed from bonds of sense, — 

Man beholds nature as unveiled, 

Penetrating unillusioned to the core of Being, 

Learning all the mysteries of life. 

Full maturity of mind and spirit. 



SIMLA [37 

Calmness and peace of age. 
Unquenchable thirst for truth, — 
Make this a period rich with thought, 
Pregnant with priceless jewels 
Of the spirit. 

In the forest-closures, 
Shut off from life. 
Freed from sex. 
Peace at last comes ; 
Sensing of the super-world, 
Knowledge of Atman as the soul 
Of universal life. 
There to seek the way 
Nearer each day to God ; 
Each setting sun brings peace, 
Each dawn initiates ne%v joys. 

Then of the truth explored 

To share with others — 

Chelas new-beginning life with search for truth ; 

And older men 

Who, hearing perchance 

Some special fame of forest-dweller, 

Travel from cities far 

To silent glades. 

That they may sit at wisdom's feet: 

Plying their busy questions 

And receiving answer, as to what 

Is manifest, 



38] SIMLA 

What unmanifest; 

What the Self that dwells within; 

What the purpose of the senses and of life ; 

And how Moksha is attained. 



This I count as the most glorious stage 

Of life, 

This the nearest to immortal bliss, — 

Tasting beforehand of that celestial wine 

Which the gods sip ; 

Reaching the within-world 

Where all is fair. 

Where space and time adhere not, 

And the hold of earth 

Breaks, and releases man 

For his immortal journey 

God-ward. 



This stage is now my privilege to claim, — 

Earth-duty done, 

Dharma toward wife and children finished. 

You to the city. 

You to married bliss 

And household arts. 

But for me, — 

The forest-wisdom. 

Skies of pure serenity, 

Joy, and the peace of Brahm." 



SIMLA [39 

So Chelu spoke, and his words brought 
New wisdom to the youth he taught. 
Now Simla, enlightened, realized well 
The meaning of this magic spell 
Love had cast on him. Now he saw 
How all must come within Love's law. 
Or soon or late; and he accepts the voice 
Of Destiny. His heart and soul rejoice 
At thought of home, and sacred fire. 
And wife and bairns to call him sire. 
He sees of Love full clear man's need. 
And joyous waits Love's promised meed. 

And so Time drawls her sluggish way 

Till the seventh sun illumes that day 

When destined blisses Simla greet. 

That he should soon with Sita meet. 

As he set forth upon Love's quest 

His father told him it were best 

The maiden fair, could he persuade 

Her heart, to bring back when he made 

His journey homeward. She should tell 

Her life and home — and if the Fates thought 

well. 
Their troth should plighted be. 
For to Chelu, it was Destiny 
That called his son, and it was right 
The planets should at last unite 
These souls to join, and send them forth 
To found their own familiar hearth. 



40] SIMLA 

And so when reddening sun low dipped 

And mountain-trees grew fire-tipped, 

Chelu heard afar the strain 

Of happy voices — and soon they twain, 

Maiden and youth, from out the wood 

Emerged in heaven-ecstatic mood. 

Around them seemed a golden flame 

Of love to play, as slow they came 

The path adown. Or was it but the fiery glow 

Of sunset, transfiguring the low 

Glad arc of heaven which lay back of them? 

Now quick the maiden ran, the yellow hem 

Of Chelu's gown to raise and press 

To her sweet lips — while Chelu gave caress 

As to a daughter whom he joyed 

To greet. And Simla stood there, buoyed 

With great content. 

He knew this tender greeting meant 

The girPs submission — that her life 

Was henceforth pledged to be his wife. 

And now as Chelu, 'neath the arm 
Of a great tree sat her of radiant charm, 
" Be welcome here — who love to roam. 
Content thee here to make thy home 
And rest with us a pleasant while. 
The night is young. Will you beguile 
Our ears with story of your maiden life? 
How comes it you are not ere now a wife? " 



SIMLA [41 

" If you wish," she said, " I will tell the tale 

Of my life as the old priest Sael 

Told me ere he died. One year 

Ago, just from today, he bade me near 

His bedside sit and learn my past, — 

I who had called him father. ' Fast 

Comes the time,' he said, ' when my soul 

Is to leave this plane and one step toward the 

Goal 
Nearer its journey make. Ere I go 
I would that you, my child, should know 
All that I know about you.' 

At this word 
A strangeness in my bosom stirred. 
What did he mean? Was he not my sire.'* 
* It is a strange tale,' he said, ' if I tire 
Not, that I shall unfold this day. 
Long you have called me father — my sway 
Obeyed, but naught else. All gay and wild 
As a young roe-deer you have been, my child, — 
Knowing no law but mine. And I, as you see. 
Have let you run wild, I have made you free 
Of all the world save Brahm and me. 
To my wish you have given due heed. 
At my call you would ever speed 
Home from the lonely forest-shade ; 
But no other claim on you was made 
Than to heed my voice. 
Elsewise, yours was the youthful choice 



42] SIMLA 

To keep yourself sheltered in our home. 
Or freely through the great woods to roam 
As your heart bid. 

The reason for this I hid 

From you, from all. Yet many wondered 

Why I from the Manu laws thus sundered 

Your budding life ; why you thus played 

Free, unrestrained, as no Hindu maid 

E'er did. They knew not you had the special 

care 
Of Brahm; that your guidance was my daily 

prayer ; 
And that in visions all my plans were given 
To train you by the will of Heaven. 

For you are not a common thing. 

It was the gods that caused to bring 

You to me, in this wise : — It chanced one day 

At dawn, as I began to pray 

It seemed as some one called my name, 

A spiritual voice. Then soon there came 

A faint rap on my door. I opened it. 

Only an owl, soft-pinioned, flit 

Before me up the mountain path. The air 

Was biting cold. I returned to prayer. 

Again methought I heard my name 
Called out by some one, but the claim 
Of prayer upon me I would not forego. 



SIMLA [43 

Then came again a rapping, slow 

And ominous. And as I ope'd the door 

A black crow stood there pecking from the 

floor 
Some grains of meal. Alarmed he flew 
Slowly away, up the dark path where grew 
The light of day above the trees. 



Again I turned back on my knees 

In prayer and meditation. But no peace 

The gods allowed — for a moan 

Soon came from out my door. Where shone 

Through it the morning light I saw 

A monkey lifting up its paw 

As if to call me. His gibbering squeak 

Seemed almost humanly to speak 

And bid me come. He turned to run 

Upon the mountain path. The sun, 

Still hid, tipped the far trees. 



No more dared I upon my knees 

Seek Brahm, when plainly there were sent 

His messengers three at dawn. What meant 

This summons it was hard to know. 

At least I felt that I must go 

Boldly up the mountain road 

Until some evident meaning showed 

The purpose of my calL 



44] SIMLA 

So out 
I strode into the morning, wrapped about 
With robe of wool. The air was keen. 
Coldly the morning smoke was seen 
From peasants' huts, low-wreathed around 
The ridge-poles, hugging the frozen ground. 
Up the mountain as I climbed 
The bells from distant temples chimed. 
]My soul in prayer to Brahm addressed 
Sought for his guidance, and professed 
Its only aim to seek His will. 
And so my aged footsteps still 
Mounted the path, still forged a way 
Toward where the night gave place to day 
Within the mountain pass. 



At length, 
When faint and feeble grew my strength, 
I saw ahead a dark form lie 
Where the black mountain touched the sky. 
One last effort and I stood 
Beside it. By growing light I could 
Discern the figure of a prostrate man 
Wrapped in soft fleece of Astrakan. 
I called him — touched him. No response 
He made. His limbs all rigid lay. For a 

nonce 
I gazed upon his face, o'er spread 
With suffering, taut and gaunt ; all red 



SIMLA [45 

His hair and frosted beard ; his length 
Surpassing that of Indus man. 



Silent I stood a moment's span, 

Thinking him dead. Then as I moved 

His limbs, a rustling motion proved 

Some life within him. To my amaze 

His fur robe parted and I gazed 

Upon as fair a sight as life can show. — 

There, haloed with a radiant glow 

Of golden curly locks, a child 

I saw — so young, scarcely a year 

It seemed. One glance it gave. Then fear 

And cold and hunger made it burst 

Into a flood of crying. 

At first 
I could but look in wonder there 
At its fine skin and golden hair 
So strange to Indus-land. Then I took 
The child within my arms, and shook 
The prostrate figure. All still 
And cold it lay, like breath of the chill 
Grave ! No doubt but life had passed 
From that gaunt frame ! Those eyes their last 
Long look had had of earth and sky. 
Its lonely fate had been to die 
High on the mountain-pass, just when 
An hour more had reached our glen- 



46] SIMLA 

Fast hamlet, and new strength and life 
Had found. 

Now neither passion's strife 
Nor hostile foes, nor battling will. 
Would e'er engage that form so still 
Upon the mountain-path. I let 
It lie there, while with the babe I set 
Upon the homeward way. So strong 
I felt with that dear load, the long 
And toilsome mountain-road, now down- 
Ward going, brought me to the town 
In a short time. Upon my couch 
The babe I laid. Then quickly got 
From the nearest mountain-hut 
A nurse to aid my awkward skill. 
Her first task was at the fire to fill 
A pot with milk and let it brew. 
While from the child its clothes she drew 
And chafed its limbs all red with cold. 
Then gave it the hot milk, and fold 
On fold of blanket wrapped around 
The child. Then on the couch in sound 
And happy slumber soon it lay. 
And peaceful slept throughout the day. 

Meanwhile a problem filled my mind ; — 
Though the gods had aided me to find 
This child, could I an aged Brahman, keep 
Within my home that which did sleep 



SIMLA [47 

So sweetly on my bed? Again I prayed 

My human reason should be swayed 

By higher Reason, my poor sense 

Be guided by the power immense 

Of God-Head. And so a vision grew 

Upon rie, and showed me clear and true 

My duty. 

" Keep the child," — a voice 
Echoed within me. "And rejoice 
Our Will to do. Thou art not defiled 
To nurse and feed the foundling child 
That We have sent. It must be known 
As Brahmin child. When it is grown. 
Great blessing it will bring to Brahmin land. 
Care for it, train it, with thine own wise hand." 

And so began, my child, your Brahmin life, — 
Sheltered from struggle, sheltered from the 

strife 
That fetters common mortals. In peace, 
Where I had made my shelter 'neath the trees, 
I taught you daily of the Brahmin lore ; 
I watched your wisdom more and more 
Increase; saw your fast ripening soul 
Its journey hasten toward that goal 
Which every Brahman seeks. 

Dear child 
Your manners were so sweet and mild, 



48] SIMLA 

Who could help but love you? Not I, 

Surely, to whom as a gift from the far sky 

You had descended. Every day 

You grew more dear to me, and filled 

My lack of children, — else my heart had chilled 

With aging years. But you kept it ever fresh. 

You rendered sunlight to me from your tress 

Of golden hair. You mirrored Beauty 

In your features rare. And Duty 

Daily so claimed in you its share 

Of Goodness, that Goodness grew more fair. 

You were given by the gods new joy 

To bring my fading years. Both boy 

And girl in one you proved to be — - 

Chela in a double sense to me. 

Your Guru, who sought to give 

You all the Light by which men live, 

And women, too. No Indus child 

Of your frail sex had ever reconciled, 

As you, the scholar's learned part 

With the deep-loving, ardent heart 

Of womanhood. It was a destiny 

God-given, — to you, to me : 

To me, in teaching such a soul ; 

To you, in thus transcending woman's goal 

Of life. 

All happily, you spent your days 
On tender care for me ; in praise 



SIMLA [49 

To Brahm ; in Veda study deep. 

Till that time came when powers which sleep 

In childhood wake to life — an age 

When that innocent and dreaming sage, 

The child, embarks on rougher seas, 

Battles with storms where tempests please 

The soul, so long encalmed ; and fast 

And furious, straining at its mast. 

The soul's ship speeds its destined way 

To where unknown and great adventures lay. 

Now changed was all your life. — No more 
Content to serve me, patient as of yore 
Within my hut, your youthful restless feet 
Urged you the forest-joys to greet. 
Daily you roamed the jungle; fought 
Your way to strange new scenes ; brought 
Me back some souvenir of wildwood 
Such as catch the eye of childhood, 
Some new emblem daily of your fearlessness : 
Nuts from the tree-tops ; water-cress 
For which you braved the oozy mud 
Of morass-brook; or else a lotus-bud. 
Gathered from the center of a lake 
Where dauntless limbs had dared to take 
Your dainty body, floating on the tide 
Of waters desolate and wide. 

At first I pondered, ' Let her have her way, 
As long as dissonance of sex holds sway 



60] SIMLA 

Upon her. Soon this wild strain will cease 

And once again she will find peace 

In domesticity.' But when a year 

Had passed and you were wilder still, a fear 

Came on me that I had done wrong. 

I should have checked you e'er thus strong 

Upon you grew this wildness. And so 

Full strictly bade I that you cease to go 

Into the jungle ; that you stay at home 

And tend your duties there and roam 

No more. 



Sweetly, as lay in you, you obeyed 
My orders. There at home you stayed. 
Sweeping the hearth, cooking my food. 
Studying the Vedas ; — but I saw you brood 
Daily, like an eagle caged: 
And a slow sickness waged 
To thin you, so that from your cheeks 
The glow of health no longer speaks 
Of happiness. Each day I saw you pine 
The more, until the blue, fine 
Veins showed in your forehead. Then I began 

to pray 
In fear to Brahm to guide my sway 
Upon you by His wisdom ; for I feared 
That silently, though dutiful, you neared 
The grave. 



SIMLA [51 

And soon in answer came 
The god's direction — " Do not forbid her game 
Of wildness. She is our daughter. Leave her 

free 
To follow her own sense of liberty. 
Fear not that she may thus transgress 
The Brahmin laws. Over her I rule. 
My wisdom is her sway and school. 
And in the jungles or the deserts wide 
I am her guardian, ever at her side.'' 

So came the voice to me, and I obeyed, 
For all my life has ever stayed 
Upon His wishes. So, my child, 
These last years you were free and wild 
Of all restraints. Your erstwhile home, 
My hut, you leave and daily roam 
The forest-close, — and to the care of Brahm 
I trust to guard you from all harm. 

But soon my days on earth must end. 
And where then will my darling spend 
Her hours ? Would that you were wed ! 
So fast the golden years have sped 
That you are grown a woman, and should be 
By now a wife. Yet as your choice is free, 
Through Brahm's command, I do not try 
To find a husband for you — you who cry 
Still for more freedom. Live as you will 
And may the high gods guard you still.' 



52] SIMLA 

So spoke my dear and aged sire, 
Telling of my life. Since then the fire 
Has died down in his frame. Two years 
Have gently passed, and now his fears 
Of age and death have been realized. 
At home he lay all paralysed. 
And by him daily I would sit 
And care for him as should befit 
My love and duty toward him. 

And then 
One day he passed beyond my ken 
Into the Other Land ; left me to dwell 
Sad and alone within our mountain-hut. 
But I could not, thus, long stay shut 
From nature and my forest friends. 
And so I roam again the fens 
And leave the home in tender care 
Of our old nurse. But ever goes my prayer 
To heaven for SaeFs soul. Thus in the forest 

range 
You found me, Simla. 

Now all my strange 
And mystic story I have told. 
You know my life, you hold 
My past. And will you also take 
My future, dearest? Does love awake 
At last my heart? And is my soul 
Destined to travel toward the Goal 
Of being at your side? '' 



SIMLA [53 

She stopped, and smiled away the tears 

That tale of the declining years 

And death of her dear sire had caused. 

And for a moment they all paused 

In breathless silence. The moon rode high 

And flooded all the tropic sky 

With mystic sheen. Chelu first broke 

The raptured quiet, and he spoke 

These words with earnest, loving voice. 

'' Will you deign to make your choice, 

Daughter — for such I would thee call — 

Here now of a protector, all 

The turns of life to share with thee ; 

And build a happy home, where he 

Will call thee wife, thou call him husband.'* 

Will you fulfill love's budding hope — 

That thy chaste womb may duly ope 

Its destined treasures? 

Here is one 
Whom I am proud to call my son — 
Simla, brave, blameless youth — 
Who has worshipped at my shrine of truth 
These twenty years. Now the stars show 
The time has come for him to go 
Forth from me and build him a home. 
Householder to become. He loves you. 
His fond heart would bid him strew 
Your future path with roses. Joy 



54] SIMLA 

Would he bring you — this fair boy, 
Beloved of devas. He will ne'er abuse 
Your woman's heart of love. 

Say, will you choose 
Him now for mate? You are alone 
In life. It seems the gods have shown 
This union as the destined thing; 
Not elsewise could a father bring 
Reconcilement to his aching heart 
When from his fond child he must part. 
Believe me, to none else than to you 
Would Chelu gladly, humbly sue 
As mate for his son's hand. 
Will you have him now for husband? 
You have no home — you have no guide 
But your own heart. Should you decide 
To accept Simla, here and now 
Will I perform the marriage vow. 
And you shall both be duly wed 
Ere yonder moon hies him to bed." 

A flush on Sita's fair face stood. 

She spoke no word — while through the wood 

A nightingale with notes of gold 

Strove plaintively its mate to hold. 

So deep the studied silence grew 

That on the leaves the sound of dew 

Slow trickling, was discerned. 

Then slow the bashful maiden turned 



SIMLA [55 

A glowing face to Simla there, 

Who stood with outstretched arms. Fair, 

Delicate vision of a loveliness 

The Apsaras could not surpass, 

Stood Sita. And now faint smiles appear 

And heaven's glory seems to near 

The earth, when her fond eyes shine on his 

And promise him immortal bliss. 

He clasped her ardent to his breast 

And there she let her fair head rest, 

A burst of gold against his midnight curls. 

And still no words disturbed the whirls 

Of vast harmonic silence. Sound 

Is but froth, when love is found. 

For words in learning's halls have place. 

But they are lost in Love's still-throbbing space. 

" Sit thee both down, then, and ere the stars do 

fade," 
The sage broke silence, " thy history, Simla, 

shall be made 
Manifest, which as yet, I have not told. 
From the beginning I will thy life unfold — 
Of thy mother and her dying prayer. 
To the tale give a still ear ! 
Nay, I will return at last 
To far memories of my past — 
To the day when I first loved. 
And the same wild spirit moved 



56] SIMLA 

My heart as now moves thine." 

With this Chelu gave his son the sign 

Of the father's blessing and fair hope ; 

And seated where the heavens seemed to ope 

A canopy of glory overhead 

Simla drank in what his fond parent said. 

"At just your age, long years ago, 
I met with lover's pangs also ; 
And that same mysterious fire — 
Be it from earth or be it higher — 
That courses madly through thy veins, 
Brought me the mingled joy and pains 
That lovers know. She whom I wooed 
Was all earth held of fair and good ; 
A blessing sent from Heaven in disguise, 
An angel new-descended from the skies. 

Love, my son, is the most sweet illusion 

That flesh is heir to in this world's confusion. 

Glory of the sunrise hues, 

Shimmer of the morning dews. 

Scent of flowers on the breeze. 

Whispering of soft-leaved trees. 

Laughter, and the glad surprise 

Of strange joy sparkling in girls' eyes, 

Mystery of flesh and soul, 

Path that leads to spirit's goal, — 

Love is all of this, and more ; 

For Brahm, through love, one of His four 



SIMLA [57 

Great measures poured into the mould 

Of the material Maya world. 

Love is creation, love is bliss. 

All else in life the self may miss, 

Yet missing this it misses God, 

And spirit-breath that stirs each Sod. 

As you love now, so once loved I, 

With ecstasy that mounted high 

In lover's expectations. That sweet girl, 

Kalra, thy mother, of whom thy curl 

Of midnight hair reminds me, how with her 

Thrilled me the love which I see stir 

Within thy heart for Sita ! When we were wed 

Seemed it that Heaven all its glory shed 

Around us, as it now transfigures you. 

And then three years we lived, of true 

Sweet comradeship in wedded bliss • — 

And you were born. 

Did the gods miss 
Her ethereal beauty? Did they yearn 
To have her spirit's grace adorn 
The walks of heaven, that they took her from 

me? 
Hardly allowed they to give life to thee 
Ere they withdrew her, grudgingly; stole 
Her away to Kama, where her soul 
Than here more fittingly resides. 



58] SIMLA 

Alas, how many brides 

Leave thus love's silken canopy 

To walk the large spaces of the sky ; 

Leave thus their husbands grieving sore, 

To whom, as bitter they implore 

For sight of the beloved one. 

Destiny replies, ' Behold a son 

We give thee, to recall thy love. 

He stays with thee, while she awaits above.' 



So, Simla, was I then bereft — - 

And only you, dear child, were left 

For consolation. 

There in Jumru I remained 

Till you sufficient strength attained 

To join me on the forest road. 

Then Heaven me this vision showed 

Of Atamon — this holy place. 

Where trees their branches interlace 

And make a canopy for thought. 

To this woods then I brought 

The only token Fate had left 

Of Kalra. — That token, son, you were I 

And I have trained you here, to stir 

The soup-pot, tend the fire. 

Fetch water, sweep out hut — nor did you ever 

tire 
Of this humble service which all Chelas owe 
Their Guru. 



SIMLA [69 

Fondly I watched you grow- 
To youth's estate, where Truth's appeal 
Could finally your training seal 
With Brahm's approval. Now you learned 
The holy Vedas. How your mind burned 
All mysteries to know! Eager-heart, 
I called you. For you drank at wisdom's fount 
Full deeply, and your spirit fain would mount 
The highest peaks of thought. Nor did I com- 
pel 
Attention from you. It were as if a spell 
Of magic held your dazzled mind, 
Some new knowledge ceaselessly to find. 
And but to guide you was my part. 
Never to drive you, Simla, Eager-heart! 

Now to manhood you have grown. 
All too quickly the glad years have flown, 
And you must leave me. You must go 
Back now to Jumru; there with Sita sow 
The seeds of industry ; play in life 
The husband's part, your future wife 
To house and feed and cherish. Ere you go, 
While the dawn-star still hangs low 
Its glory in the eastern sky, 
I will with the Manu laws comply, — 
And ere I wed thee, make it known 
How love's seed should be wisely sown 
Within the marriage garden. Those great 
laws 



60] SIMLA 

Descended from the past, without flaws 
They are, sacred truths ! Never fail 
To follow them, and happiness shall prevail 
Upon thy lives." 

So Chelu spoke, 
Wearing the night away. His words awoke 
The hearts of those fond lovers. Rapt 
They listened to his truths that shaped 
For them the duties of the married life, — 
Truths that should be known ere maid becomes 

a wife ; 
A delicate teaching which was fitly given 
Under the soft canopy of heaven 
Upon this tropic night. 

And now the first flush of the morning light 
Silvered the east. And soon the streamers red 
Of dawn awoke the squirrels from their bed 
Of sleep; and birds all joyous sang, 
And far and wide the forest rang 
With stir of wakening life. This was the hour 
In which the hermit was to use his power 
As Brahmin priest, to join that happy twain 
In bonds of holy wedlock. Fain 
They were for union — rapt in each other's es- 
sence, 
So that it seemed this night one presence 
Only was made by those two bodies there, 
Two souls united, as in the heavens air 



SIMLA [61 

Penetrates in air so that no cyst 

Or barrier divides. In such a golden mist 

They floated. And they were already one 

At heart, when in the light of rising sun 

The priest them outwardly unites 

By those sweet, ancient, holy rites 

Which symbol union. 

For marriage is a sign 
Of union between mortal and divine ; 
And wedlock is that state on earth 
In which the holier passions find their birth, — 
Love of the weak, willingness to bear 
Suffering of others, gladness to endure 
The hardships of the world because a joy 
Of inner union daily serves to buoy 
The heart. And so a perfect married love 
Is counterpart of the glorious life above 
This vale of tears. And love's first kiss 
In marriage, is a symbol of the bliss 
With which the soul first meets its Divine 

Lord — - 
No greater bliss our earthly days afford. 

And now the holy rites are done. 
And lo ! within the East the sun — 
That glorious symbol of new life — 
Rises to bless the new-made man and wife. 
Its golden, tremulous, happy rays 
Awake the hearts of all to praise; 



62] SIMLA 

And Chelu, Simla, Sita, three, 
Offer their thanks beneath the banyan-tree 
For life and health, and for this new great joy 
Of happy marriage. And Sita, no more coy. 
Looks joyous into Simla's eyes. 
And each finds in the other such a prize 
Exceeding all their hope that Destiny would 
send. 



Silent their prayers at first ; but now they blend 
Their voices in a glad, sweet, morning song. 
And all the birds that in the branches throng 
Choir to human song a sweet refrain — 
And sing their gladdest, and then sing again. 
And so the rites are done, and those glad two 
Are married. And Simla no longer has to woo 
The heart of Sita, it is pledged 
Forever to him. And he is privileged 
To enjoy the love of husband to a wife. 
And she is his, and he is hers, through life. 

And now where will they spend their honeymoon, 
That golden moment which escapes too soon 
The grasp of mortals, joy too pure to keep 
For long upon a planet where so many weep. 
This thought is theirs, to travel first 
To Sita's village where there dwell 
A few dear friends whom she would bid fare- 
well. 



SIMLA [63 

Then they would wander through the forests, 

free 
As squirrels racing swift from tree to tree ; 
Free as eagles that soar round mountain-peaks ; 
Free as the mighty wave that breaks 
Upon some headland, welling slow and sure 
From ocean depths. So they would take the 

lure 
Of Nature for their daily guide. 
And where their paces loitered, there the bride 
At close of day on cushioned moss would rest; 
And there the bridegroom know himself as blest 
Above all mortals, holding through the night 
His golden-gloried treasure of delight. 

And so they travelled toward the ancestral 

home 
Of Simla. Shall we tell you how they roam 
So joyously the forest through? 
And how in hours of forest silence, true 
And absolute union of each loving heart 
Was forged, so that words were not needed on 

the part 
Of either? And how love daily grew 
Apace, — until if it had but a few 
More grades of heavenly wonder passed, 
The devas would have surely been harassed 
With envy of such mortal joy; and would have 

set 
Around the bride that strange invisible net 



6i] SIMLA 

Which draws to an untimely death 

Full many a heart rejoicing in the breath 

Of love and youth? 

Fortunate it Avas 
That Sita's prayers left her no worthy cause 
For mishap. So humbh^ did she pray, 
So gratefully thank the gods by day 
And night, and unselfishly implore 
Tliat they would send to her no more 
Of ecstasy than was a mortal right, — 
That she was spared that too high delight 
Wliich her great soul was heir to, but which 
Had surely racked her body ; and too rich 
A store of joy, had called her heavenward. 
No cause for jealousy do her joys the gods af- 
ford. 
More poised, more wonderful each day she grew. 
It seemed as if her nature drew 
Daily from Simla strength and calm, while he 
Derived from her some measure of her ecstasy. 



Part Two 

LOVE GROWN FAMILIAR 

And so to Jumru Simla came 
And gave his days to love's own claim, — 
Happy in the ancestral home, 
Content, these years, no more to roam 
The forest jungle as of old; 
No more to hear the monkeys scold 
From the far tree-tops, or to scan 
The tropic night-sky's wide flung span; 
No more the birds and beasts to turn 
Tame to his hands ; no more discern 
Those glorious mountain-peaks of old, 
Raising their pinnacles of gold 
Against the morning sun. 

Only a gleam, 
A panoramic jungle dream, 
At times coursed through his busy brain 
As in the midst of civic strain 
His tasks he plied, to meet the need 
Of wife and children he must feed. 
So Simla, no more Chela, works 
From day to day. No task he shirks 
To build his fortune's house as wide 
As fitting for so dear a bride, 

65 



66] SIMLA 

So fair and sweet, so loved a wife, 
As now had joined to him her hfe. 

For Sita grew more fair each day, 

As maiden's charms to matron's sw^ay 

Yielded their all. 

That delicate, ethereal grace 

Which moved her limbs and lit her face 

Changed to a greater glory e'en. 

As moonlight yields to golden sheen 

Of sunrise and the lord of day. 

Now o'er her happy life held sway 

Domestic arts and children's care. 

Her heart each morning raised in prayer 

For those she loved, brought her so near 

The gods, their glory seemed to clear 

The bonds of flesh and shine serene 

Within her eyes, upon her skin 

As soft as velvet. And that smile, 

Once full of all a maiden's wile. 

Now seemed from heaven to draw its spell 

As o'er her babes her beads she'd tell. 

If Simla loved her as a maid. 
Now all his soul upon her stayed, — 
That sweet, that kind, and wifely way, 
That mingled seriousness and play. 
Deep within her heart and mind 
Each day new riches he would find. 
Each day she strove the more to show 



SIMLA [67 



The love that every wife should owe 
Her husband, in whom she sees 
The fulfillment of heaven's decrees. 



Children five did grace their board ; 
Three sons did the gods afford, 
Surety that on that distant day 
When Simla's soul should make its way 
To Devachan, his grave would still 
The waiting gods with incense fill, 
And satisfy the claims of fate 
To keep his name immaculate. 

Now thirty wedded years have passed, 
And Simla finds his heart at last 
Longing from home-ties to be free 
And in the forest's sanctity 
To meditation yield his soul, 
Searching for union with the whole ; 
To still each sense of separate life, 
Forget the tumult and the strife 
Which Maya brings to each new day 
Until the self owns Atman's sway. 
He longed the bonds to fling aside 
Of pain and pleasure ; on the tide 
Of spirit to at last set sail, 
To breast that Ocean where no gale 
Disturbs its calm ; where sleeps each wave 
In a peace deeper than the grave. 



68] SIMLA 

Each night he heard anew the Call. 
Each morn he heard that soft Footfall 
Of Spirit, urging him to go 
Where sheltering forests dulled the glow 
Of midday sun ; where cloistering shade 
A home for meditation made 
More fit than noisy city streets 
And open sunshine's dazzling sweets ; 
Where the light, filtering all serene 
Through its soft and leafy screen, 
More gentle invitation made to thought 
Than where the dazzled eye was caught 
By all the Maya-gleaming plays 
Of life's kaliedoscopic maze. 

His children now had left their nest, — 
Young eaglets glorying to breast 
Life's struggles. His beloved girls 
Long had outgrown their childhood curls, 
And happy in their wedded bliss 
No more the father's care would miss. 
From Household Dharma all absolved, 
His children grown, he now resolved 
To leave his home, to leave his wife, 
To renounce the town's sheltered life, — 
And as forest-hermit dwell 
In that self-same bosky dell 
Wherein his father long years past 
Was wont for days to pray and fast ; 
Where his own boyhood years were spent, 



SIMLA [69 

And nature all her kindness lent 
To foster thought, to bring repose, 
And shut out all the soul's sly foes, 
Hot passion, envy, pride and greed, — 
Of sorrow and rebirth the seed. 

This purpose forming in his heart 
He was reluctant to impart 
To his dear wife ; she who had shared 
His life, though good or ill they fared ; 
She who, steadfast, with him had trod 
The Path that leads through life to God, — 
Until it seemed their souls were one, 
And only they beneath the sun 
Had found what love and union was. 
And now, to leave her without cause. 
Save that the Spirit bade him go — 
How could he plunge her in such woe. 
Who ne'er a grief had brought to him? 
Who ne'er had seen his eye's light dim 
With tears, but she had kissed them all away 
And filled instead with joy his day? 

Should he leave Sita thus behind 
Simply to free his soul and mind 
From care? 

In order to retreat from life 
Must he abandon e'en his wife. 
Dearest beloved of all save Brahm 
And Duty and the Atman's call? 



70] SIMLA 

Yet such demands the Spirit made, — 
And no Brahman yet had stayed 
In loving daUiance by his hearth 
When Forest Dharma called him forth. 
He had no choice, he needs must brim 
The cup of sacrifice to its rim. 
Not only things he'd ceased to love 
Offer, but her he prized above 
All earthly joys, all heavenly bliss, — 
Yes, he must offer even this. 

And still, in doubt, each day that passed 
Found Simla sadder, more harassed 
With doubt. Twixt love and duty torn, 
His heart and face grew so forlorn 
That Sita noticed it, and pled — 
That as no thought since they were wed 
Had undivided been — he'd share 
With her this new and self-kept care ; 
That she might help these clouds dispel, 
Bring back the light she loved so well 
In Simla's eyes, his joy restore. 
And banish grief forevermore. 

" Alas ! " her dear loved spouse replied, 
As fondly vthey sat side by side 
And watched the sunset hues depart ; 
" No mortal can relieve my heart 
Of its distress — not even you 
Whose love like sunshine on the dew 



SIMLA [71 

Is wont to brighten all my woe 
With a translucent heaven glow. 
Not even you, dear wife, can mend 
My grief. Nor can you hope to bend 
The will of Fate, which now demands 
I flee from these caressing hands, 
Leave those glowing love-lit eyes. 
And those warm lips where wifehood lies 
Ready to comfort in distress 
Or the achieving deed to bless." 

Sita raised quick her fond blue eyes 
Lit with a spark of dread surmise ; 
" What mean you, Simla? Is it now 
The need of forest hermit's vow 
You speak of? Is the time at hand 
To fulfill Dharma's third demand, — 
Chela, Householder, and then 
To pass beyond the wifely ken. 
And all alone in forest state 
To pray and fast and meditate? 
Ah me ! How cruel seems now Brahm 
To steal you from my loving arm. 
And set you there beyond my love 
In forest solitude to rove. 

Alas! I felt, I knew your time 
Of life had reached its household prime. 
How oft of late I've seen you scan 
The mountain's rugged horizon. 



72] SIMLA 

Like eagles brooding in slow rage 
And pining in their prison-cage, 
Over 3^our eyes I have seen the glaze 
Of infinite distance and amaze, — 
That Search no mate can satisfy; 
That Quest which ends in Deity. 

Simla, through life and death my Fate, 
My love would err to hesitate 
And plead with you to sacrifice 
The call of Dharma. There is no vice 
So low as love which seeks to bind, 
Through passion of the heart or mind, 
The loved one fast in selfish thrall 
And turn it from the Dharma-call. 
The Gods must ever be obeyed ; — 
Nor shall it be that Sita stayed 
Her spouse from Duty's pilgrimage 
Or turned him from his Yogi-pledge. 

But Simla, though my heart in tune 
With yours agrees to Fate, a boon 
I humbly ask, a boon full strange, — 
That with you in the forest range 
Your wife may end her happy days. 
Joining with you her morning praise. 
Chanting at even-fall the psalm 
Of love and gratitude to Brahm. 
Can you not union find with me 
Beside you searching too? Nor see 



SIMLA [73 

The Path because my woman's feet 
In pace with yours may be less fleet? 
Why has Brahm made souls with sex? 
Must separateness always vex 
The heart of mortal ? Does love disturb 
The Atman? Does mortal union curb 
The soul from running its true course 
Toward that which is of Love the Source? 

Take me, Simla, with you there, — 

Take me your forest life to share 

As I have shared your household tasks. 

Take me, O Husband ! Sita asks 

No trivial boon. She knows her plea 

Is strange and bold. But Destiny 

Is on the side of those who pray. 

They receive naught who dare not say 

Their heart's desire. My prayers are meant 

To bend the will of Heaven. Relent, 

As Brahm relents, and whispers you 

To unite Love and Duty too." 

" Sweetheart and wife," then Simla said, 
While on her hands his own were laid 
In loving clasp : " It may not be ! 
The gods would envy you and me 
That happiness. No, hearts must free 
Themselves from other hearts, to find 
The Hidden Friend. Even the mind 
Must free itself from worldly things 



74] SIMLA 

To get the Peace, that calmness brings 
And absence of all thought. To grant 
Your boon, though I should acquiesce. 
Would be to sin against Heaven's face. 

For never in the Brahmin age. 

Since the laws given by the Mage 

Manu, has such a thing in life 

Been known, as that a hermit with his wife 

Should seek the forest-silence. No ! 

Though my heart bleeds it should be so, 

You may not share with me these years. 

Come, dearest, dry those bitter tears 

That in your eyes' depths seem to well ! 

And calm your bosom's anxious swell! 

It is Dharma, it is Fate. 

Do not the holy Vedas state. 

That the God-seeker must from sex 

His spirit wean ? Come, do not vex 

My leaving with a wife's complaint. 

Nor my heart already faint 

Oppress with thy dear sighs and grief. 

Does not the Spirit bring relief 

To every mortal pain? 

Look in my eyes, and see again 

The love I gave you as a youth. 

Not less of love, in very truth, 

Impels me sadly to depart. 

Here ! feel the beating of my heart, 



SIMLA [75 

And know that Simla grieves no less 
Than Sita at this sore distress 
The gods force on us. But be brave! 
Our love shall pass beyond the grave, 
And there in heaven's purest light 
Endure. No power can break love's might. 
When two souls join in union true. 
That union lasts the ages through. 

This parting breaks not love's delight. 
It is at worst a brief respite, — 
That body, like the mind and soul, 
May be prepared for the far goal 
Of Death. 

All that sweet and dear allure 
Of sex must banished be, and pure 
And holy must the Brahman rise 
With wings to cleave the very skies. 
In that Ascent where many faint, 
Sex is a burden to the Saint." 

Simla thus his lesson drew 

To Sita, and his words pierced through 

Her mind and soul. No answer made 

She, but her burning hands conveyed 

To Simla an intuitive sense 

Of submission and obedience. 

No more the tears coursed down her face. 

No outward sorrow marred her grace. 

Still deeply grieving, even so 



76] SIMLA 

She would not add to Simla's woe; 
Nor make more bitter that sad task 
Which Dharma of her spouse did ask. 

And so she wiped her tears away 

And smiled, as on an April day 

When clouds dissolve and show the blue 

Clear sky, with sunlight shining through,- 

So Simla beamed upon her lord 

All that her rich heart did afford 

Of love and sympathy. 

But if her tears could nothing move 
The heart of Simla, now her love 
Came near to changing all his plan. 
For ever does the heart of man 
Soften and melt beneath the power 
Of love which is a woman's dower. 
And so, what Sita with her pleas 
Could not accomplish, innocent 
Now, and free from all intent 
To hinder Simla, the very charm 
Of her devotion then the Brahm 
Almost did win from his fixed course. 

His heart was wrung with deep remorse 
At thought of leaving such a wife, — 
Whose love had nothing known of strife, 
Whose only wish was but to do 
The wish of Simla all life through. 



SIMLA [7T 

He clasped her ardent to his breast. 
Upon his cheek her cheek he pressed, 
He kissed her thrice, and in her eyes 
Read a love that never dies. 
Thrice he kissed her, thrice he paused 
And a deep sigh uttered, — caused 
By inner conflict between love 
And urging of the gods above. 
But now he lets her from his grasp, 
Slowly his hands from hers unclasp, 
And turning, silent walks away. 
The gods, all powerful, win the day ! 

And so for seven sacred days 

Simla his last devotion pays 

To Sita. 

By every look he tries to prove 

How deep and steadfast is the love 

He bears his wife. Yet at the last, 

Worn by his vigils and his fast. 

He walks as in a trance. She knows 

The finite love now lesser grows ; 

That to the gods his heart is given 

And all his thoughts are now on heaven. 

But through those seven days forlorn 
Sita did not weep or mourn. 
Knowing her duty was to please 
The will of Heaven, and to ease 
Her husband's grief. Silent she was. 



78] SIMLA 

Nor spoke out unless the cause 

Was needful; but at Simla's side 

Knelt much in prayer. If she cried, 

She did not let her husband see 

Her tears ; but ever cheerily 

Faced him as though they but prepared 

A happy journey which both shared. 

At length the parting morning came — 
For Time leaves never slack its claim 
On mortals. As the glowing ball 
Of fire shed its light on all 
The earth, and many a tuneful bird 
Sang to the morning breeze that stirred 
The leaves and flowers, forth he strode, — 
Bare-foot, scant-clad, upon the road 
To Destiny ; that Staff in hand 
Which, Yogi emblem through the land 
Of Brahm, brings proffered food and bed 
Where'er he deigns to rest his head 
And bless a household by his stay. 

Thus Simla set forth, and passed away 
From Sita's sight. More dim it grew 
The farther off his footsteps drew, — 
For now the tears she long had checked 
Burst forth, as if her joy were wrecked 
Upon a shore all desolate 
And barren, since it lacked her mate. 
Sobbing she watched him down the road. 



SIMLA [79 

Burning within her breast there glowed 

A fire of love no words could quench. 

And grief that seemed her cheeks to blanch 

Until all statuesque her face 

Shone with a fixed and clear-cut grace. 

And yet it was not grief alone 

That showed her face to marble grown, 

For in her mind a sudden thought 

New peace and resolution brought. 

A sun-ray pierced the apparent gloom — 

An outlet from the Dharma-doom 

Of separation. Now her tears 

She dried, threw to the winds her fears, 

And fixed her soul in great resolve 

That promised all her grief to solve. 



Part Three 

LOVE'S GREATER QUEST 

Simla, meanwhile, on his way 
Was travelling many a lonely day, 
Begging his meal in Yogi bowl, 
Blessing with grateful prayer each soul 
Who aided him with food or bed. 
And where'er he laid his head 
A blessing fell, a peace and joy 
Such as the gods above convey, 
To those who harbor holy saints. 

And Simla, now with no restraints 
Of wife or bairns, loved to sojourn 
And watch the family incense burn 
In homes where happy love held sway ; 
Loved to see the happy children play 
In unity and harmonious love. 
And ever then his thoughts would move 
To Sita and his children five, 
When they in friendly romp would strive 
For seats upon his knee; or throng 
About him, with their childish wrong 
For him to judge, and justice mete 
As they sat reverent at his feet. 

80 



SIMLA [81 

Each home where infant life was shown 
Brought back a reminiscent frown; 
And all his heart in love went out 
To children, who ever thronged about 
Him, feeling with true childish sense 
His love for their sweet innocence* 

And if the children in each home 
Made somewhat sad his fate to roam, 
Centerless, childless, now through life, — 
How much more vivid came his wife 
Before his eyes, as he would sit 
Before some family altar lit, 
And see the sacred incense rise 
To Brahm upon the evening skies ; 
While the husband would officiate 
As priest, and side of him his mate. 
Reverent, his offering shares. 
As Sita had done these thirty years. 

And so at night no home did fail 

To bring before him Sita ; yet the Trail 

Called him again at morn. And true 

To Yogi pledge, he did renew 

Each day his journey, — travelling on 

Toward the forest Atamon, 

Where his father's soul 

Waited to bless him at the goal 

Of Yogi pilgrimage. Never twice 

Did the same bed his limbs entice; 



82 J SIMLA 

Never the same town could lay claim 
More than one day to Simla's fame. 
And SO5 like Vishnu, homeless, lone, 
The sacrifice which must atone 
For sin he paid. Each step endured, 
More certain Moksha him assured. 
For toil and suffering can purge 
The Atman of its Maya-urge ; 
Can leave it, of all passion free, 
To find its Godward destiny. 

At times his aged limbs rebel ; 

At times he tottered, almost fell 

From weariness, save that the staff he keeps, 

Duty-emblem, propped his steps. 

At times at wayside shrines he'd rest 

A moment, hugging to his breast 

The beads his wife so long had used,- 

The only gift he'd not refused 

In parting. Now each bead he'd tell, 

Thinking of her who loved so well 

Her husband. 

At last at Atamon he arrived. 
Where first his heart with young love strived ; 
Where his father's word had made them one, 
Simla and Sita. Where Chelu had his son 
Instruction given on Brahm, on life. 
The soul, and love. And then had blessed the 
wife. 



SIMLA [83 

The Fates had chosen, and dismissed 
Them townward, while he kept his tryst 
With Brahm as forest sage, — alone, 
Companionless, seeking to atone 
In prayer and offering for the sins of men. 

Now Simla stood in that same wood again, 

Atamon, beloved of gods, where rose 

The Ganges ; — whose sacred water flows, 

The length of Indus land and purifies 

The soul of everj'^ one who dies 

Bathed in it. At this holy spot 

Simla made habitation, and his thought 

Was focused all on Brahm and Death. 

And concentrating with his every breath 

On hope of Moksha, of deliverance 

From illusion, from the Maya-dance 

Of life, — he spent his aging days 

In seeking Truth, and teaching of its ways 

To others who as Chelas sought his hut. 

And so a winter passed and shut 

Were Simla's thoughts from worldly things. 

But now the new-born verdure springs 
From soil and shrub, from bush and tree, — 
And all the birds and insects glee 
At spring's return. The sun dries up 
The moisture from each flower's cup. 
Filling the air with fragrance sweet. 
And everywhere the eye doth meet 



84] SIMLA 

Exuberant life, exuberant joy; 
And Nature's forces all deploy 
To arouse in man new-life desire, 
New love, new yearning, blazing fire 
Of mystic longing. The Maya show 
Of life is at its full. All bright 
And glorious, pranked in shining light 
Of April sun. Nature seductive seems. 

And to the heart of Simla dreams 

Come of early love. In spite of all 

His power of will, his hourly call 

On Brahm, to take love from his life, — 

His heart yearns ever for that wife. 

That comrade, who had shared his days 

Of joy and gloom. All her sweet ways 

Rose up and smote his memory ; 

And spite of all that he can try 

Of Yogi practice, to cast out 

The spell of love, it winds about 

His heart its clinging tendrils close. 

For every one he breaks a new one grows. 

Then Simla knew, though he had cut 
Love from his life, its primal root 
Still lived within his Being's core. 
Still grew as freshly as before, — 
When Spring, the time of flowers came. 
And though he daily sought to tame 
Its power, yet it daily with him dwelt ; 



SIMLA [85 

Each hour his heart new longing felt 
For Sita. His eyes would fain rejoice 
At sight of her ; his ears, her voice 
So silvery sweet to hear ; and his hands 
Grieve to follow love's commands 
And give caress as husbands know. 
His thoughts upon her to bestow — 
His new-won truths — he often yearns ; 
For true love its candle ever burns 
At wisdom's altar, thence to bear 
Its gifts to the Beloved, — so to share 
Its spiritual wealth, its wage 
Of wisdom, that the giver, sage, 
Makes his Beloved sage also. 

So Simla, mazing, sees love grow 

Where he had thought it dead. But at last, 

With summer sun and autumn past, 

He reached again a spiritual peace; 

From earthly love found that release 

Which prayer and fasting bring. And joy 

Filled now his soul, — to be without annoy 

Of love, to be the sage again, all pure 

And Me from Maya's dread allure. 

Little he recked of Nature's subtlety, 

Who plays as gamblers play. 

Letting her victims sometimes win. 

Then suddenly gathering in 

Their utmost store of spirit wealth. 

For with return of each new spring, 



86] SIMLA 

Lo, love again her lure would bring 
To life, and dazzle all his sense. 
And then with autumn would commence 
Again his mastery of love, only to lose 
His gain, when Nature did but choose 
Her Maya stakes to play. 

And more, 
As years went by, this agony ! Full sore 
He reasoned with himself. Was he 
Different from others who could free 
Their souls from life and reach the peace 
Of Brahm ? Why found he not release 
From love?. Was his suffering heart 
Not made like other's ? His Yogi part 
In life could he not play as well 
As other hermits who in forest dwell? 
So he grew ruthless toward himself; 
Took down the thongs from off the shelf - 
Mortification which he seldom used — 
And his poor body so abused 
With beating, that he helpless lay 
And sleepless, many a night and day 
With Yogi thought absorbed in Brahra. 

Yet all this harshness only could do harm 
Unto his body, for his soul still longed 
For Sita ; and no matter how he wronged 
His sense's mansion, still abode 
With him love's heavy tragic load. 



SIMLA [87 

Year after year passed by, 

And year after year would Simla try 

New mortifying for his flesh, 

New ways to rend from him the mesh 

Of love's fine filaments. Yet e'er 

Its net he must about him wear, 

Its prick of longing be renewed, 

When spring her glorious beauty showed. 



At last a desperate way he sought 

To free, in spring, his wandering thought 

From sense life. If his eyes rebelled 

And they could be as reason held 

For his illusionment, better 'twere 

Those glowing orbs with fire to sear 

And sight-less live in forest dim. 

Then that those eyes should hinder him 

From Moksha. Better far to smite 

His eyes with blindness and escape the sight 

Of Maya world, than to be yearly stirred 

To madness by each leaf, each bird 

That danced or sang of love. 

And fiery ardor so did move 

His longing soul, that with a grim 

And steadfast purpose he did dim 

His heaven-granted vision, blind 

Himself, smite those eyes that find 

The world too beautiful. And gloom 

Of darkness settling around, the doom 



88] SIMLA 

Of sightlessness he chose, and lived therein, 
Hoping at last to find release from sin. 



And what are Sita's thoughts and plans 
While Simla seeks to conquer man's 
Infirmity of sex? Has woman, too, 
No struggle of the heart to rue 
When her dear mate is lost? While he 
With hardship sought serenity 
Within his forest glade, his wife 
Was also wrestling with life, — 
Seeking in patience to forget her grief 
And in spiritual vision find relief 
From agonies of love. But still 
His memory would daily fill 
Her aching heart. The sight 
Of his dear face, once her delight 
To dwell upon with kindling eyes, 
Now hovered, as clouds roam the skies, 
Before her vision. Now he seems 
To visit her entranced dreams 
As living flesh ; now fades away 
Impalpable as light of day, 
There, yet not there, to seize or grasp, 
To comfort her with ardent clasp 
Of loving arms. 

At times her very being aches 

From this drear void which Dharma makes 



SIMLA [89 

Of her necessity. No more 
His voice comes through the open door 
To greet her on return from town. 
No more for him a dainty gown 
She chooses, to adorn her form, 
And cheer him when harassing storm 
Of duties leave his brow all black. 
His very frown she grieves to lack, — 
When he was used to mildly chide, 
And then, all loving, her confusion hide 
In his strong arms, and wipe the tears 
And gently soothe away her fears 
Of his displeasure. 

But who can know 

How sad a woman's heart can grow 

At loss of her beloved, save one 

Who, Sita-like, from sun to sun 

Waits all in vain for the foot-fall 

Of him who was to her all, all 

That life may hold of bliss? 

She only knows, who craves to kiss 

Each relic of her absent mate ; 

His garments, books, his gown of state, 

For gala days a noble guise 

Attracting to him passing eyes 

Of pilgrims, who his wisdom saw 

As one well versed in Vedic Law. 

So Sita grieved. And yet a prayer 
Rose daily on the quiet air 



90] SIMLA 

Of twilight, and again at dawn, — 

That Brahm would guide her, all forlorn, 

To wisdom, severance, and faith; 

Would still her heart, as Veda saith 

The Spirit can ; and lead her days 

Into a final hymn of praise 

And holy Brahmin peace. 

And yet prayer brought her no release 

From love ; failed to quell lo^^e ! 

And so in a new way she strove 

At length ; and a dim thought. 

That first at Simla's parting wrought 

A certain comfort to her soul. 

Now on her holds a strong control 

As something not to dream of only 

Within her home, all sad, all lonely, — 

But to cast upon the wind 

As ripened project of a mind 

Resolved to venture all her gain 

Of Karma to attempt a vain — 

It might be — but a chance 

Of breaking the power of sorrow's trance 

Upon her and her lord ; of solving now. 

The problem which on human brow 

Has had more power a gloom to move 

Than aught else has, — the power of love. 

This was her plan : to venture now 
Herself upon the Yogi vow 



SIMLA [91 

Of forest meditation, leave 

The home so powerless to retrieve 

A lost love, and within the forest dim 

Give up her heart to thoughts of him 

Her love was stayed on ; there to pray, 

By starry night, by tropic day, 

For solving of this restless hold 

Of love upon her ; either to mould 

Her human heart to heavenly will 

And thus its earthly beatings still 

In Yogi peace ; or else to find 

Some inspiration for her mind 

And soul to dwell on, which might give 

A new solution, and let live 

The glowing spark of earthly love 

That in her bosom, far above 

The warmth of her devotion's vows. 

Still daily burns. Still daily grows 

More like the sacred Tapas flame, 

Which, so the holy Vedas claim, 

Burst forth from out the heart of Brahm 

And formed the universe, all warm. 

And this thought gives her heart delight : 
That it might chance some morning's light, 
Some tropic evening's softened glow, 
Might see her hermit-husband go 
Past her own hut in quest for truth. 
Thus she might see him without ruth, — 
Not breaking Dharma's sacred claim. 



92] SIMLA 

Not calling even on his name 

To win him, but content to cast 

Her glances on him as he past ; 

Merely to sate her loving eyes 

With sight of Simla ere she dies, 

Merely to know that as of old 

He still subsists within this mould 

Of human flesh. 

Not to enmesh 

His heart again 

Would she attempt. No ! not again ! 

And so at last her pilgrimage 

Sita began. And as a forest sage 

Of her frail tender sex was rare, 

The more of honor did she share — 

Winning from every home and sect 

A gentle care, a high respect. 

Each town for the great honor strove 

That she should in its sacred grove 

Of banyan settle, and from there 

Send forth her teachings and her prayer 

In their behalf ; and for a while 

She blessed with prayer and sweet sad smile 

Full many a hamlet thus. But anon 

Her heart would prompt her to be gone 

Upon her quest. She could not find 

At any place that peace of mind 

Which she so craved. The holiest spot, 

Suited for sages, pleased her not. 



SIMLA [93 

A constant prick, a restlessness, 
Urged her to travel, — until less 
Than twenty leagues from Simla's home 
Her feet, o'er weary, chanced to roam, 
And there a grove all filled with peace 
Gave to her anxious soul release 
From wanderlust. No strength she had 
For further travel. All sore and sad 
Her aged limbs refused to mount 
The path of sacrifice to its fount. 
From very weakness she must stop 
E'er she had reached the mountain-top 
Of spirit. 

Yet she was reconciled 
To cease her quest ; nay, even smiled 
As she breathed deeply of the mild 
And pregnant mountain air, all warm 
With fragrances of pine and balm 
Which the noon sun called forth. Above, 
Far crags with heaven majestic strove, — 
And over all the soft clouds blew 
Across a sky of opal hue. 
Far down below, the landscape filled 
With rustic huts and fields well tilled. 
Whose simple folk rejoiced in life 
Of home and hearth ; where ne'er a wife 
Wept for a husband vowed to God, 
As Sita had wept each day she trod 
The path of yearning. 



94] SIMLA 

Perhaps this 
Was what distilled a subtle bliss 
Within her heart, the happiness of others 
All about her — fathers, mothers, 
Children, wooers and wooed — all 
Living in their ancestral hall 
Life's drama with contentedness. 
Or did another reason bless 
The patient Sita ? Was it because 
Only a five days' nightly pause 
Of foot-faring lay between her lord and her? 
This nearness Sita knew not. But the stir 
Of heart-throbs on the silent air, 
May it not have sent a message there 
Where Simla dwelt in utter lack 
Of love? Sent, and its message back 
Received of husband's greeting, of love 
Returned, as flies the homing dove? 

It may have been. We can not tell 
Life's hidden ways. Full well at least 
This mountain fastness Sita pleased. 
Here she relaxed her restless ways ; 
Here she resolved to spend her days 
In prayer to Brahm, in search of truth. 
She might become, who knows, a proof 
That woman's gifts and woman's mind 
Can also paths of wisdom find; 
That woman's heart and woman's soul,. 
As well as man's, can reach the goal 



SIMLA [95 

Of seership. Not that she aspired 
To boldly climb, where men's feet tired, 
The steep ascent to heaven. Another way 
Perhaps by smiling rivers lay, 
And valleys basking in the sun, — 
Whose waters their far course should run 
By fallow fields, by hamlets small, 
To the great Ocean, mother of all. 

One sage might dauntless mount the sky. 

Another sage might peaceful lie, 

A shining dewdrop in that Whole 

Whose tidal movements ceaseless roll 

Their absolution to all flesh. 

By climbing, one escapes the mesh 

Of Karma ; by sinking, too. 

Can one not gain illumined view 

Of that Ancestral Peace, that Calm 

With which the Ocean gives the dew-drop balm? 

So Sita lived as hermit-wife 

From hermit-husband her severed life. 

And now, as Vida, the name and look 

Of Yogi nun the fond wife took. 

No longer Sita, to the world 

Her gathered wisdom she unfurled 

In spirit humble and devout. 

To all who sought her mountain-hut : — 

The ways of Brahm, the ways of man. 

And how the Spirit's bridge may span 



96] SIMLA 

The gulf between them ; how the soul 
Is at once both part and whole, 
Atman and Purusha, spark divine ; 
Of cosmic Love the mystic sign 
She traced in nature: or she discerns 
In Maya's many illusive turns 
Reality behind the false mirage. 

And soon word went that a new sage, 
A woman sage, with truths that bless, 
Lived ever ready fear, distress, 
Or sin, to banish from the soul 
Of all who sought her mountain goal ; 
And strangers from the near and far 
Gathered her sacred truths to share, 
And the nun Vida famous grew. 

But Sita counted her truths too few. 

Though all were added to her list 

As teacher, if but one she missed; 

One truth, of all the magic key, 

She sought in that great mystery 

Of sex. If this she could but solve 

All about it would revolve. 

If this impenetrable remained, 

Man's whitest wisdom lay bestained 

With error. This was the clue she sought,- 

To this her deepest prayers she brought 

By night and day. In prayer and fast 

Full many a weary hour she passed ; 



SIMLA [97 

In fast and prayer she agonized 
For that one gift above all prized, 
The mastery of sex. 

And now to June 
Her ninth year brought its golden moon. 
And as one night she sleepless lay 
And all her heart and soul did pray 
For revelation, lo! it came. 
As gentle as the roe-deer tame 
That once fed from her hand. No storm 
Of evil spirits battle form 
About her, as had often been. 
Only a quiet lake was seen, 
No ripple on it ; and no sigh 
Disturbed the white light that did lie 
Upon its surface, — when there burst 
From its fair waters what at first 
A giant lotus seemed. 
And then she saw, or else she dreamed, 
The great God-head unfolded quite 
From out the flower its glorious light, 
And moved to her across the flood 
While music sang within her blood, 
Reaching her very center's core. 

Of such a sight she dared no more 
Receive, but knelt and bowed her head, 
Fearing that further vision led 
Toward madness. For mortal sight 



98] SIMLA 

Can not endure the Cosmic Light 

Too long. And as she trembling knelt 

A hand upon her head she felt, 

Whose touch was softer than the love 

Of mother to her babe. It did not move 

A single hair, one delicate hair 

Of Sita's. Yet it lingered there 

In such a sweet, divine caress 

That all her lingering heart's distress 

Melted as lead in fire ; and a glow 

As Soma can on gods bestow 

Thrilled all her being. She awoke. 

Only the lake she saw, nor broke 

A single ripple on its tide. 

And now into the mountain side 

It vanished. Only moonlight lay 

All bright around her, clear as day; 

And silver shone the mountain mist. 

Her once grief -burdened beads she kissed 

In joy a hundred times. She raised 

Her face to heaven and grateful praised 

The Being who had come to her. 

And soon a power began to stir 

Within her new-illumined mind 

And gave the clue she sought to find. 

All suddenly to sex. What was concealed 

Lay clear before her, all revealed, — 

Clear as the moonlight on the grass, 

Clear as the sharp-cut mountain pass. 



SIMLA [99 

Simple as dawn. Yet such a light, 
Denied to man in man's soul-night. 
Only the Dawn could give. 

Now Sita, joyous, prayed to live 

This truth to share with all. 

Now on her face there seemed to fall, 

And stay henceforth, a partial gleam 

Of the Cosmic Light that in her dream 

Illumination brought. Her delicate skin 

Translucent grew, as is a thin 

And lovely shell held to the sun. 

And lo ! her seership had begun. 

Vida, the Yogi nun, from this time on 
As seer was hailed. Her face so shone 
That all, the vision which she claimed. 
Believed. Each day she grew more famed, 
And Brahmins from both near and far 
Journeyed to see the new bright star 
Mounting the zenith of seership ; 
Journeyed to hear from Vida's lip 
The truth that she alone could teach. 
Each year renown did farther preach 
Her wisdom. Till cities of the sacred stream 
Ganges, even those that teem 
With sages ; cities of Indus too, 
From source to mouth, sent to renew 
Their Vidya store. All Brahmin land 
Paid reverence to the mighty hand 



100] SIMLA 

Of Brahm, that laid on Vida's head 

Had to illumination led 

And blessed the race with truth. 

But one 

Brahmin who lived sad and lone 

As forest-hermit, only away 

From Sita five days' journey , 

Heard not at first her growing power, — 

So shut out was his lonely bower 

From human intercourse. And when 

At last, upon the minds of men 

He heard of Vida's growing sway, 

The thought of seeking her he put away 

As childish ; as too easily 

Chasing a mere crude novelty 

From sacrilegious whim. 

And others' pilgrimage seemed to him 

A desecration of the Yogi plan, — 

Confession of weakness, that a man 

Should go to woman for his spiritual light. 

And yet he knew the high gods might 

Choose any vessel for their gifts. 

He knew that sometimes Brahma lifts 

The veil from woman, and gives her place 

Within the circle of Yogi grace. 

There had been women seers before, 

There might be women sages more. 

And as now for the first time people past 
His hut, seeking on foot, or slow or fast, 



SIMLA [101 

As youth or aging limbs permit, 

The hut of Vida,- — desire lit 

His heart and burned within him strong 

To break his hermit life, so long 

In one place settled, and start out 

Upon the very self same route 

That led to Vida past his door. 

This plan he cherished all the more. 

That years to him no peace had brought 

Nor the wisdom that he sought. 

Illuminating life. He wandered still 

Restless though valley and o'er hill 

Of spirit, — though his mortal frame 

Paid the dues of hermit-claim 

And never stirred from home. 

And now desire to further roam 

Came hot upon him, — his quiet vale to leave, 

Five days to travel, and receive 

From Vida if the gods allow 

The blessing of peace upon his vow 

Of forest hermit. After all. 

Perhaps from woman's lips might fall. 

Perhaps from woman's mind might stream, 

Illuminated words, illuminated beam 

Of Brahmin ray his declining years 

To bless, and to remove the tears 

Which often blurred his spiritual sight. 

He would seek humbly for the Light 

He craved, and asking o'er and o'er. 



102] SIMLA 

Knock even at a woman's door, — 
If so by God's grace there might be 
Solution of life's mystery. 



Sita one evening sat alone, 

Into a mood of revery thrown 

By trembling shadows on the ground 

Of full moon cast ; there was no sound 

Of bird or beast to break her dream. 

Her many years of marriage seem 

To pass before her, back to that night 

When Simla chose his faith to plight 

Beneath the banyan tree. Hallowed night 

Of love's sweet tryst, when golden moon 

Even as now moved all too soon 

From east to west ; 

Until the day, all newly dressed 

In veils of pink and robes of rose. 

Had brought their wedding to a close 

And led them forth to life, — 

He manful, she the trusting wife. 

Sweet love had blessed their thirty years 

Of domesticity ; — and now, 

She wondered beneath what bough 

He sat in meditation ; where he spent 

The years that Karma to him lent 

Ere life be done. And was he well or ill? 

Needed he a woman's care? 



SIMLA [103 

Had the years not failed to wear 
Deep wrinkles on his brow ? Were all 
His faculties obedient to his call? 
Or had some mishap injured him, 
Taken his strength, or maimed a limb 
So that he needed help ? 

For such 
Is woman's greatest joy, — a crutch 
To be to the infirm, sight to the blind. 
Faith to a feeble heart, hope to a mind 
Despairing. She would wipe all grief 
With love away ; relief 
For every mortal ill she'd bring ; 
And at the cruellest task she'd sing 
Her chant of joy,— did she but serve 
One who could all her love deserve. 

As Sita pondered thus, she heard 
A rustling louder than any bird 
Would make; and now she could discern 
Emerge from the last hidden turn 
Her hut-path makes, a slender youth 
Approaching. Did he come her Truth 
To learn, or had he message to impart? 
Full soon she knew. For from his heart 
A leaf he drew, bowed deeply, held 
It moonward while he spelled 
Her name. *' Is this the holy forest nun, 
Vida? " he humbly said. 



104] SIMLA 

" Who daily offers spiritual bread 

To hungry seekers? My master, too, 

Is one who wishes to renew 

His faith and wisdom at your fount." 

" What is his name? " Till one could count 

Twenty, it seemed, his answer took. 

While a strange emotion shook 

Her heart. It might be — 

*^ Simla," he said! 
The blood rushed hot to her head. 
Her heart beat fast ; and then so still 
It came, such numbness seemed to fill 
Her veins, she scarce could move. 
Almost she fainted. But she held 
One thought before her which repelled 
Her woman's w^eakness, — shame that a seer 
Should yield so to emotion, should so be seen 
By him who had the herald been 
Of her good fortune. So at length, 
By sheer will gathering up her strength. 
She answered, " Simla shall welcome be. 
Thy master, to share here with me 
My spiritual store. So tell him. But where 
Bides he? When will he come? I would 

proffer 
Him hospitality." 

" He dweUs 
But five days' march from here, where wells 



SIMLA [105 

The holy Ganges' crystal source 

Ere it takes its sacred course 

Thiough Brahmin land. And if you will. 

He comes as soon as I fulfill 

My mission and return to him. 

Ten days, a fortnight, then the hymn 

Of greeting will he chant to you. 

And here before your spreading view 

Would he the Chela's incense burn. 

And quietly would here sojourn 

To learn from you of truth." 

His answer, how it seemed to soothe 

All her vague fears, all her distress. 

The gods, all kind, at last did bless 

Her with this meeting, with love's goal — 

When wife and husband soul to soul 

Could hold sweet converse, union find 

Of heart, and soul, and ripened mind. 

So her faint hope would be fulfilled. 

Her anxious longing at last stilled! 

And he, whom above all the prize 

Of sainthood, treasured in her eyes 

Had been, now as the devas' boon 

Would come within her vision soon 

And bless her love with peace ! No more 

In anxious speculations o'er 

His age, his happiness, his health. 

Her mind would turn. For all the wealth 

Of Indus, she would not this meeting miss ! 



106] SIMLA 

Already thrilled her lips to kiss 

His aging cheeks, his noble brow, 

And show him that his Yogi vow 

Had never slain her love. — But quick 

A tliought came to her, that all sick 

Her glad heart turned. Would it be right 

For her as Sita to meet his sight, 

When Vida was the one he sought. 

Not wife, but nun? This question wrought 

A turmoil in her heart and brain. 

On her white light of joy a stain 

Of darkness cast. She must not appear 

As Sita to him ! She must wear 

A heavy veil before her eyes 

And her usual voice disguise, 

That he might know her as he thought 

To know, might find her as he sought 

To find, Vida the forest nun. 

Rebellion could not help but run 

Its course against this plan. Her heart 

Burned, all its wealth to him t' impart 

Of love. What is a keener grief 

Than to be shut off from all relief 

Of pent-up love, that doth aspire 

Freely to pour its hidden fire 

Upon the loved one, with caress 

Love's joy to show, love's wish to bless 

The dear beloved? Is not this 

The meaning of the tender kiss 



SIMLA [107 

That lovers' lips do press? 
Quintessence of that tenderness 
That would with equal ardor pour 
Its life's blood, till the blood no more 
Could flow, or one's own soul as pledge 
To the beloved give, and count it privilege 
To sacrifice one's very Self for love? 

So Sita with this longing strove — 
And 3^et she knew she must oppose 
Restraint to ardor, fight the foes 
To Dharma that beset her sore, 
Again at Renunciation's door 
Her offering lay ; knew she must miss 
Again the ancient-longed-for bliss 
Of union; still as Yogi nun 
Remain, still be the banished wife 
Who may not share her husband's life. 

This she decided ; this with grief 

Resolved upon. Yet one relief 

A comfort brought to her sad soul : 

Her eyes at least could take their toll 

Of Simla, She at least could see his face. 

If she could not share embrace 

Of love, she could have him at her side — 

He would holily abide 

There, learning of her lore. At least 

This was a fragment of the feast 

Of love she sought. In prayer she turned 



108] SIMLA 

To Brahm, to still the fire that burned 
Within her — give her strength to meet 
Her Simla with the happy, sweet 
Humility of forest saint, 
And grant their meeting bring no taint 
Upon her love. 

So anxious days there passed 

Twice seven, till at last 

When love's impatient longing hath 

Almost itself exhausted, on the path 

There came the sound of distant voices ; 

And wildly Sita's heart rejoices 

As she sees around the turn emerge 

Two forms, which slow their progress urge 

Toward her. — Now Sita recognized her lord ! 

And all her being's anguish stored 

Through many years — her yearning love — 

Against her will within her strove ; 

And she ran forth with joy to greet 

Her husband, toiling with slow feet 

The upward climb. But suddenly 

She stopped, almost about to cast 

Her veil aside, and hold him in her fast 

Embrace. Her arms outstretched 

Fell helpless, and a sigh she fetched 

From inmost bosom. Nay, a tear 

Silently began to wear its way 

Adown her cheek ; a f aintness lay 



SIMLA [109 

Its heavy swoon upon her limbs, — 
And all the world about her swims. 
Her soul was stayed by the sad thought 
It was not Simla's love that brought 
Him to her. She must remain unknown, 
Wrap close the veil about her blown; 
He must not see her as the fair 
Sweet wife who ceased his days to share, 
But meet her only as a sage 
Goes forth to meet his own peerage 
Of mystic life and thought. 

" I come Vida the Yogi nun 

To seek, whose far renown 

Has spread through forest and through town. 

Humble, as Chela now I turn 

To one whose light doth brighter burn 

Than mine, — 

Humble, as searcher for divine 

And lofty truth must ever be. 

Pride never leads to immortality. 

Many have I taught of truth. 

Yet now I kneel, and nothing ruth. 

Before thee, who have never knelt before, 

Begging but to share thy lore." 

And as he fumbled with his staff 
Feeling his way to walk, a shaft 
Of sunset-light fell on his eyes; 
And Sita noticed with surprise 



110] SIMLA 

They did not flicker, nor the lid 

Its tender orb safe-guarding hid. 

She noticed how he felt his step 

Slowly, as to avoid mishap. 

And when, reaching a fumbling hand 

To his young Chela, he gave conmiand: 

" Lead now me on," a sudden numb- 

Ness seized her heart ; her lips grew dumb ; 

And slowly over her puzzled mind 

The truth stole home, that he was blind ! 

Now was she tempted sore 

To rush and cast herself before 

His weakness. Pity moved her heart 

With burning impulse to impart 

The truth to Simla ; to make known 

The forest nun's identity, 

And test her Simla suddenly 

As to his love, whether it were dead 

Or no. But soberer thought now spread 

Its checking influence o'er her soul. 

She wanted, not his love, but the whole 

Sanction of his spiritual reach. 

He had come to hear her preach, 

Not to seek love. It were not just 

Upon him now her love to thrust. 

Though she had longed for such a day 
Of Love's return, she put away 
All influence of such desire, 



SIMLA [111 

Quelled the violence of her heart's fire ; 
And as for Dharma she had let him go. 
So now for Dharma she forbore to know 
The joy of meeting. And as he sought 
In her a Guru only, naught 
Further would she seem to him. 
Though mists of tears her eyes must dim 
At every fumbling step he took, — 
Yearning with all the tenderness of wife 
Henceforth to guide his weary life. 
All, even all a woman's joy 
Of service, would she not allow 
To break the purpose of her will. 
Simla was forest hermit still. 
She was a forest nun ; and he 
Sought in her only spirituality ! 



" Welcome," she said with faltering lips ; 
" You who would seek, as bee that sips 
From every flower, wisdom's store. 
To the high gods I now implore 
For guidance, that truth may flow 
Into my soul, — such truth to know 
As led you to my humble cot. 
I am no miracle, God wot ! 
But only, like yourself, a sage 
To whom, seeking ever, age 
Has brought some measure of content 
To solve this life's bewilderment. 



112] SIMLA 

What would your highness hear? 

Discourse to others I daily bear 

On life ; on destiny ; the soul 

And God ; the microcosm ; the Whole 

Of Being, in which life subsists ; 

Creation's agonies ; the mists 

Of Chaos, out of which evolve 

Great Suns and planets that revolve 

In strict obedience to the law. 

Or would you learn the vision that I saw 

Of Vishnu as fast-devouring Time, 

Into whose maw from every clime 

And stage of being, cruelly there flowed 

A stream of men and beasts, all blood? 

Or of the vision of the One 

Forth-shining as the Cosmic Sun 

In dazzling light apparelled? 

Or would a humbler subject suit 
Your fancy? Shall I to the root 
And quality of earthly love 
My learned thought affect to move, 
And all the secrets trace of sex, — 
That mystery which doth so vex 
The mind, the heart, the life of man? " 
Simla cried eager, " Tell, if you can. 
The mystery of sex, its place in life ; 
Our duty toward it ; why its strife 
Must stay the soul's desired peace 
With agonies that never cease ! " 



SIMLA [113 

Now Sita, happy wife, rejoiced 

That Simla, all unknowing, voiced 

His love for her ; and by his fret 

Against love's claims, proved how as yet 

Love had not left him, but remains 

A fire of longing in his veins. 

This was the very theme she craved 

To discourse on. For this she'd braved 

The tropic jungle's lonely fear, 

Long day's desires year by year, — 

Until the Fates should lead her lord 

Thus to her, and this chance afford 

To teach him of the mystic light 

The gods had sent her in love's night. 

To show him forth the better way, 

Not darkness, but the light of day ; 

Not deprivation, bitterness, 

But how a love all pure could bless 

The earthly years' descending sun; 

And how through love, not spite it, won 

Could Moksha be, and heavenly joy 

Which kindly Fate would ne'er destroy. 

This was the wisdom years had brought 
To Sita. This truth Brahm had taught 
Her loving heart, her woman's mind. 
Should not truth be of feminine kind 
As well as male? Distorted view 
Of life might not the masculine be, 
That recked nought of the divinity 



114] SIMLA 

Which dwells within the woman's soul? 

Two halves are needed for a whole ; 

Two sexes only create life. 

And Simla, turning from his wife 

To isolation and neglect 

Of love, perhaps in this respect 

Had missed of truth the hidden way. 

And had in error gone astray. 

While Sita, serving only love's behest, 

Had further gone in the far quest 

For truth, than any man. 

Perhaps ! 
The gods alone can safely guide 
The spirit through those deserts wide 
Of mixed illusions and mirage. 
Where oft it puzzles wisest sage 
To judge which is of earth or sky. 
And Sita did not claim an eye 
Clearer for truth than others were. 
Humility still fitted her 
As garments modest veiled her frame. 
And not for all her new-won fame 
Would she usurp, in Yogi pride, 
To be a leader or a guide 
To Simla. 

If she had wisdom to impart 
Which moved him, all her heart 
Swelled in a joyous gratitude. 



SIMLA [115 

If she could offer spiritual food 
To him as she had erstwhile done 
To others, and his mind was won 
To her analysis of life, — 
Then for all agony of wife 
Torn from her husband, sad, alone, 
Such victory would now atone, 
And her dim plan of years ago 
Would its blessing now bestow 
On both ; and both as lovers sweet 
Could in a heavenly love now meet, 
And share together all life's joys 
Within the forest's leafy close. 
The hour of test at last had come ! 
And with glad heart, and yet fearsome. 
Did Sita take her unwitting lord 
Before her hut, a seat afford 
His aged limbs, and reverent, 
As sage to sage her manner meant. 
Unfold to him now the invited words 
On sex and love. 

The evening birds 
Who late had choristed the sun 
Were quiet now. Upon the horizon 
A faint moon glowed ; its soft sweet light 
Dispersed the shadows of the night ; 
And all in silver sheen the trees 
Whispered together in the breeze. 
Under such auspices began the speech 



116]^ SIMLA 

Of Sita to her lord. Within reach 

Of her fond hand he sat! She longed 

To touch those eyes that Time had wronged, 

To stroke his silver hair and lay 

Her cheek against his where a ray 

Of moonlight showed the wrinkles deep, 

Or in her hand his hand to keep 

During this discourse ; but forbade 

To break the veil which Fortune had 

So strangely laid between them. No ! 

Their reconcilement must not so 

Be brought about. Quite calm and still 

She therefore sat. What dumb emotions fill 

Her heart and soul, stay unexplored. 

And so, she gave this discourse to her lord. 



SITA'S DISCOURSE ON LOVE 

" Sex is the lord of life ; 

For from sex, love springs 

And love rules all. 

How dull the stagnant pools of Being 

Until love came. 

Love, glowing like a golden flame 

That sundered its dark waters ! 

Then life arose 

And trembled on the brink of Being. 

Then out of formlessness came form. 

From dark Chaos fair new worlds. 



SIMLA [117 

From bitter homogeneity issued forth 
A sweet diversity. 



Now separateness divides the Cosmos, 

Individuality of being; 

Myriad monads splitting from the central 

core, — 
And in them all some pang of union, 
Some nescience of primeval harmony, 
Some reminiscent yearning for identity: 
And this is Sex. 

Lives not an atom but is charged with sex. 

Sexless is matter not, 

But sexed in all its minuscules. 

For sex is life, — 

And when sex dies then life subsides 

Into a cosmic night. 

From sex, love springs in all its radiant forms,- 

Love, the awakener; 

Love, the exalter and divinest lord. 

Without it life were stagnant, still, and foul. 

Love is the running water. 

Dash of spray through ozone-air, 

Dazzling sunshine purifying self. 

Love is force electrical, 

Impelling ever to new life. 

Evolving ever fairer forms,- 



118] SIMLA 

Until the archetypal ancient Beauty 
Stand revealed in flesh. 

Yet love is life's illusion, 

Binding close the powers of the soul 

To Nature's sweet behest. 

For Nature must have new and ever new of 

myriad forms. 
And so, the mating- thirst 
Is strongest thirst of man, — 
That from his loins the endless chain of life 

proceed. 

When love usurps its sway, 

All else seems valueless and stale and flat. 

Such power of illusion love hath, 

Such power of gilding life, 

Such golden glory bursting over every hori- 
zon, — 

That under its deep spell the earth seems para- 
dise. 

And earth's frail day 

Takes to itself a portion of divinity. 

But when Nature has its will of us. 
Love's glory fadeth; 
Heaven becomes earth again ; 
Immortal godhood fades to manhood, 
And all the tribe of human limitations 
Assert their force. 



SIMLA [119 

And life is bound and prisoned 

And the soul, straitened there, 

Rebels at love, 

And seeks to burst its way 

Out from form into life's formlessness. 

So came the search for forest-freedom, 

The ascetic's quest, — 

Who denies allegiance to love. Lord of Life, 

And seeks to transcend sex. 

Toward Union he would other ways than union 
take ; 

Toward Brahm the Ancient, 

Ancient roads would find 

Of sexlessness, of soul's quiescence, life's nega- 
tion — 

In a word. Nirvana to attain in flesh. 

And yet flesh ever mocks the search. 
Thrusting its question on the austere soul, 
Of whether there be any fairer goal 
To life than that which Love bestows. 

The hermit seeks for Union, 
Seeks to lose himself in that Abstract De- 
light,— 
While all about him life is gay and bright, 
Birds singing, blossoms sweet with scent, 
Flowers vivid-hued, enticing insects 



120] SIMLA 

To a feast of love. 

Shall he, the forest hermit, 

Find In the forest peace from love, 

When every year love reigns triumphant rounid 

him? 
It is an idle quest! 
So long as life beats in him 
And his heart floods each vein 
With pulsates of rich blood, — 
So long must love remain 
Lord of his being. 

To deny love is to deny life. 

To renounce it is to cease to live. 

What Nirvana offers of such lovelessness 

I know not, — 

But loveless, life can never here find paradise. 

This, hermits' features show, — 
Poor faces — 
Deep seamed. 
And ridged, 
And sterile 

From lava flows of love 
Through vents volcanic ! 

For love will have its way from within out- 
ward, — 
Softly and gently. 
Or with scoriae force. 



SIMLA [121 

Sex is master 

Because life is. 

All things exist by contrast, — 

Darkness and dawn. 

Heat and cold, 

Mountain peaks and valleys low. 

Even the ocean and the sun-lit sky 

Contend in loving dalliance, 

That the heaven, mirrored in perfect beauty. 

Should on the water's bosom lie. 



Thus in the realm of opposites 
Union alone brings peace. 
All things exist in pairs. 
Save there where Brahm dwells 
In heights accessible to none, — 
Above all blame or praise. 
Freed from the realm of contraries, 
Clothed in a wholeness perfect. 
He only is pure Being. 



But all else obeys the laws of relativity. 
Divided into contraries. 
And in its struggle after harmony 
Love joins the contraries and produces peace. 
Only thus can peace be found — 
For in the heart of disparateness lies unceasing 
yearning. 



122] SIMLA 

In all the realm of Contraries 

The greatest pair is Giver and Receiver; 

Initiator and Conserver; 

Sower and Fructifier. 

So symbols Sex. 

The tiniest atom, charged with spark electrical, 

Flies to its eager goal, 

Gives of its life-force to some waiting mate. 

One gives, the other takes, 

And peace is born as fruit of union, — 

Peace, and equilibrium, and joy of still new 

forms of life. 
From minuscule to mayorscule, 
From monad up to man. 
One is the giver and the other 
Blesses by receiving burning gifts of love. 

Such is man and woman. 
Masculine and feminine 
Brahm made, 
To move as power. 
For wherever they unite 
Force issues, 
A new thing is bom, — 

And following swift on throes of ecstasy crea- 
tive. 
Peace dawns. 
So peace and power. 



SIMLA [123 

Irreconcilables, 

Are joined by only Love. 

And even in the realm of thought 

Sex dwells. 

For here too, one is giver 

And the second is recipient. 

One mind sows a fair thought, 

And the second cherishes it to blossom. 

One is the wielder; 

The other, tender, soft, and mild, 

Fallow-lying till the germ is brought, 

Furnishes a fruitful soil to thought. 

So all of life is relative, 

Absolute alone is Brahm. 

Here in the finite world 

Nothing is, but in relation to its mate. 

Bright is only bright 

When measured with the lack of light. 

Energy and force 

Require mass to work upon ; 

Moving power is nought 

Save as matched with that which resists motion. 

Teacher is not teacher 

Save as one is taught. 

What poet is there 

That craves not an audience? 

So infinite craves the finite; 



124] SIMLA 

And even God were poor, 

Had He not beings mortal on whom to spend 
His Love. 

So Love is seen as at the root 

Of relativity, 

And sex is seen as life. 

What, shall God himself be bound in Love, 

And thou seek to escape it? 

Shall the whole Cosmos move 

In waves of Sex, 

And thou seek to deny it? 

Vain effort ! 

Sooner pluck the stars from heaven, 

Bid the sun be dark, 

And dim the lustre of the fulling moon, 

Than to cut sex from life ; 

Than to take Love from Being. 



And yet how master Love? 

For love must mastered be 

Ere the soul reach 

Nirvana and the goal of peace. 

For love brings peace. 

But love destroys it, too. 

Love raises man to height of god; 

But love wounds him there where he soars 

aloft, — 
And brings him, struggling, earthward. 



SIMLA [125 

While sex is master, 

No Moksha is attained. 

Should then the sage cut sex from life? 

That, as I show, is an impossible solution, 

Since life is phased in sex. 

How then find harmony. 

How attain freedom. 

How become Lord of Being .^^ 

For this clue mankind has ever striven, — 

And if the gods have favored me with truth, 

It is not for my sake only 

But to bless all men. 

Hear thou my plan! 

In every problem 

Solution is found within that problem, 

Not by fleeing it. 

To retire from life is not to solve life; 

To flee from love is not to master love ; — 

For where'er man goes he carries with him sex. 

Then love must yield its own solution. 

Love must be studied patiently 

Until perception comes. 

Love must be cultivated where its seeds are 

sown; 
Must be raised from the dark soil 
Into the sunshine and the breath of God, 
That it may yield its perfect flower. 



126] SIMLA 

Sex is the seed, 

And pure love the flower. 

Sex sends its roots deep earthward, 

That love may draw its sustenance 

To rise skyward. 

Cut the roots and the fair blossoms die. 

Starve sex and love is also starved. 

But the careful gardener is he 

Who trains the plant of love 

By science, 

And waters it with tears 

Of spiritual devotion. 

Ever his task it is 

To please the Master of the Vineyard. 

And from Him he learns his art 

Of mastery over nature's wildness. 

Under his skilful touch 

The tawdry scarlet blossoms 

Turn to pink petals rare; 

The bitter, pungent odor 

Yields to a perfume sweet as deva's breath. 

For lo ! 

From the same roots 

Spring wild excessive sprouts, 

Or roses heavenly fair. 

What folly 

Then 

To cut the roots of love 



SIMLA [127 

And leave life's garden bare ! 

Rather 

Train the flower by that science rare 

Which the kind gods bestow. 

Move in the world. 

Shun not your fellow-men. 

Meet them rather with that great heart of love 

Which Krishna, Lord of Being, taught. 

Do not abuse sex. 

Do not scold it, — 

For lo, it will have its revenge ! 

But know sex as power. 

Use it as motive-force, 

Turn to it, as friend to friend. 

In the life of men. 

In the manifold complexities of human ties, 

Sex is the greatest friend man has. 

It is the generative force 

From which love springs, 

And winning charm. 

And glad self-sacrifice. 

He who loves most 

Lives most. 

He whose heart burns with the clearest Tapas 

flame 
Is nearest to the gods 

And yet, since sex is force, 
It is as dangerous 



128] SIMLA 

As it is powerful. 
Only he who masters sex 
Is worthy of the Yogi name, — 
Not he whom sex doth master. 
For this purpose you and countless thousands 
Flee to the forest wilds, 
Seeking to master sex. 
The aim is worthy 
But the means are false. 
He never masters love 
Who flees from it. 
He is not lord of life 

Who lets life besiege him at the gates of loneli- 
ness. 
How is he master who fears love.'^ 
How is he conqueror, 
Who retires from the fray? 

There where love is, 

Is the place to conquer love. 

There where life is most triumphant 

Is the place to triumph over life. 

Stay in the town. 

Stay in the home, 

Fight without fear the sex-battle 

Where sex throws the challenge. 

Is it necessary to retreat to win the victory? 

Is that how a warrior fights? 

You ask for clearer counsel? 
It is this. 



SIMLA [129 

You who would in forest silence 
Seek chastity in your declining years, 
Can you not find chastity at home? 
You who would purer purpose find for sex, 
Can you not find it in the midst of men? 
Weakling, fight where the fight is thickest ; 
Meet the full odds, and with God's help 
Be Victor! 

Can you not master sex 
While those you love still dwell around you? 
Can you not guide sex-forces where the tides 
flow full? 

This, then, is my counsel. 

When man reaches forest-hermit age, 

Let him renounce love of the body 

And seek love of soul. 

Let him cease to pour out sex, 

When sex no longer needed is 

To fertilize new lives. 

And all of sex conserved 

Shall then fertilize his mind and soul, 

Strengthen him with added power. 

And recreate, where once it but created. 

This I know ye strive to do. 

But it is harder thousand-fold to do 

Alone in forest-silence — 

Than with aid of one. 

Wife love-mate. 



130] SIMLA 

Who aims with you at the self-same goal ; 

And who gives love to you daily 

From the deepest sources of her heart and so 

Love one must have, 

Love one must give, 

In order that one may truly live. 

It is how one gives and takes of love 

That proves one master, 

Not how one seeks to flee from love. 

For love cannot be fled from, 

But love can be transformed by daily miracle 

From the plane of body 

To the plane of soul. 

This seek thou : — 
Transmute love 
As lead is turned to gold ; 
Transmute it 

As nature lends the grubbing worm its fairy- 
wings ; 
Transmute it 
As dark turns to dawn ! 
Put away passion 
And clothe thyself with spirit. 
Put away lust 

And clothe thyself with infinite compassion. 
Be a lover of humanity. 
Be one who finds his joy in service; 
And with a heart that beats as tidely 



SIMLA [131 

As beats the infinite sea, 
Find thy soul's companion 
In the great Lover, 
In the Cosmic Friend. 

Yet another mystery I disclose to thee, 

Greatest mystery of sex. 

Within thy body 

Are powers little dreamed of ; — 

Masculine and feminine, 

Married by the holy sacrament of priests. 

Symbol those elements joined in mystic union 

Within each individual. 

All is in each. 

Make perfect that solar circle lying in thyself, 

Join its two halves to one-twain. 

And thou art freed from sex-need of another. 

In most these currents languish. 

And stagnation calls for junction with an outer 
force 

To cause to circulate that electricity of sex 

On which all health, all happiness, all power de- 
pends. 

But the master-soul 

Is he who learns to make this circle — 

Dormant within him — 

A living current, electrical. 

Slow-turning in vibrant whirls harmonic. 



132] SIMLA 

Such are tne masters, 

Great Leaders of the race. 

They have achieved electrical concurrence, 

And they move majestic among men, — 

Vibrant with sex. 

Vibrant with power, 

And needing no one to surcharge them 

But the Most High. 



Yet such a destiny for common mortals 
Is more a goal than a possession. 
It is the ideal, achieved as aeons roll 
Their vast time-currents toward Eternity. 
And to achieve this goal with harmony, 
Patiently and as Brahm wills, 
Man must mate with woman 
And woman mate with man. 



Not alone, forest-dwelling, 
Should one seek to perfect sex. 
The awakening of Kundalini 
Comes best with the polarity of two. 
Masculine and feminine currents, 
Intermingling, 
Aid to awaken each in each. 
Not by avoiding charm of woman 
But by accepting and subduing it. 
Grows man perfect. 



SIMLA [133 

Then wakens bit by bit 

The forces of the opposite arc in him, 

Arc Marioltic. 

So wakes in woman, 

Through union with man's strength. 

The slow currents of the Christie arc. 

Thus man, through woman, finds him twain, 

And woman so through man; 

And richly whirling currents 

Of each sex in each 

Bring unity of sex in each, 

One-twain in each. 

And each is lost in each. 

Then is perfection reached. 

And love reciprocal becomes a ray 

Whereby man reaches heavenward. 

And woman reaches heavenward — 

And both grow perfect through their love of 

each 
And not through isolation. 
This is my teaching ; 
This the vision that Brahm sent. 
Amn ! Aum ! Aum ! 
Peace be with thee ! '^ 



She finished, and in wonder deep 

Simla sat dazed, as if in sleep. 

He moved not for a minute's space, 



134] SIMLA 

Then a happy smile began his face 
To brighten which had been so sad ; 
And speaking reverently and glad, 
" Vida," he said, " your words to me 
Solve simply and well the mystery 
Of sex. You have convinced me quite, 
That love in hearth and home hath right 
To dwell ; need not abandon life ; 
Need not be severed from the wife 
The devas have assigned ! The heart 
Doth rightly play its proper part 
In life. For the wedded it were well 
Saintlily at home to dwell 
In spiritual love. Asceticism, 
Brahmin-way, may be as a prism 
Distorting the white light of truth, — ■ 

I know not ! am not sure 1 but ruth 
Falls on me that I ever left 
My wife — left Sita all bereft 
Of husband's love. If I have lonely been 
Grieving for her, her days have seen 
Perhaps still greater grief, her mate 
Deprived of by an unkind Fate. 
Truly, as well you say, no need 
There is to sever love from life, 
To tear the husband from the wife. 
And try to starve out sex. Better 'twere 
Their daily life in service share ; 
Replacing sex with kindliness. 



SIMLA [135 

For passion giving tenderness. 
Transmuting physical to spiritual love. 
So live the devas in the heavens above — 
So may we live on earth! 

To Sita I would go," he sighed — 

And all that spiritual grace 

That had transfigured his sad face 

Departed, leaving him in gloom — 

" I would go back, but doom 

Of blindness is upon me ! How can I 

Take home to Sita an unseeing eye, 

A faltering foot, a helpless mouth to feed, 

My every hour her care to need? 

How can I burden so her life? 

No ! better she remain a wife 

Severed still from matehood, lone 

And sad, — - than I should try atone 

For sorrows past by making her a slave 

To my blind need. 

Too late I have 
Perceived the truths of sex, too late 
Regretted leaving that dear mate 
Who blessed my days. May she exist 
As happy as the dew-drops kissed 
By morning sun — I cannot wish her less. 
But I who crave her tenderness. 
Who fain at last would go back home, 
I am destined still to roam. 



136] SIMLA 

Unblessed, life's pathways. Mayhap again 

In other lives we may retain 

Our matehood, living side by side 

As lovers resolute to tide 

The storms of life together. Heaven grant 

This prayer! And heaven plant 

Within my heart a steadfastness, 

That may eternal union bless 

Of Sita and myself ! 

And now, 
Kind nun, again I take my vow 
Of forest silence. I must now depart 
For Atamon, and my weary heart 
In prayer and yearning keep. 
The stars announce the hour of sleep. 
I would not longer hold you here. 
And your aging strength by discourse wear. 
Good night! Tomorrow I set forth. 
How much to me your words are worth 
I cannot tell. My gratitude 
In speech could only falter rude 
Its heartfelt depth. My hand to yours 
As sage to sage, belief implores 
To witness what I feel. Than this 
I can no truer speak. I kiss 
Your hand. And so, good night ! " 

Strange how one's sorrow can delight 
Another's heart ! Simla's sad word 



SIMLA [137 

Had such a bliss in Sita stirred 

That she could scarce be still. And when 

Her hand he kissed, for ten 

Full seconds she was near to faint. 

Unto that happy hand a kiss she lent, 

Unseen. Then new speech began to move 

Her eager lips. 

" If I can prove 
To you, dear friend, how woman yearns 
To serve the helpless ; how deep burns 
The heart within her, all her power 
To use in making glad each hour 
Of one she loves, — if I prove this. 
Would you to Sita take your kiss 
Of husband's love again? Would you 
Renounce your fears, if I can show 
That for true woman greater joy 
Exists not, than to help remould 
Our lead of suffering into gold 
Of service, for the man she loves? 
Come, will you promise, if approves 
Your reason of my words, that you will go, 
Even with your blind footsteps slow. 
To Sita, your beloved? And with her dwell, 
There where her early love served well 
Your days to bless ? '' 

Simla a sign 
Of faint approval made. " I resign 



138] SIMLA 

Myself," he said, " as erstwhile, 

To your wisdom. Speak. May Brahm smile 

Upon your words, and help you prove 

The steadfast power of woman's love." 

Then Sita seized his hand in hers 

And all her ardent longing stirs 

Her finger-tips with love. Intuition 

Brought Simla recognition 

Dim before a word she spoke. 

And then the golden silence broke 

With, " I am Sita ! " She caressed 

His thin wan hands. " Just now you guessed 

The truth. I am your loved one! 

And I crave only this happy boon. 

To serve your aging years. Believe 

Me, and these words receive 

As truth. My days no greater joy expect, 

Than to serve you. Do not reject 

My love. Do not prevent 

That it should be in service spent. 

Would you refuse to let love rise, 

Passion-free, to the far skies 

Where angels serve the heavenly throne? 

Such love, and such a love alone, 

I ask to give you. 

Say that you will let Sita live 

Beside you, share your failing life, 

And be to you both nurse and w^ife." 



SIMLA [1S9 

Simla started as if to peer 

Within the face of Sita, and sheer 

Wonder stamped his features. Glad 

His face showed at her words. Only sad 

He seemed, his eyes could not behold 

Her whom he hastened now to fold 

Close to his heart. His fingers all the while, 

Tracing her features, found a smile, — 

That smile that used of old to light 

Her sweet face, making it a sight 

For men and gods to dwell on. It was the first 

Glad moment since they parted, it had burst 

The veil of sadness o'er her features cast. 

" Tell me," he stammered, '' what thou hast 

Of love retained for me, my Life, 

Since I set forth, abandoning the wife 

The gods had sent me. Can there stay 

Within thy soul the slightest ray 

Of love-light for thy parted lord.'^ '* 

^' What love my heart and soul afford 
You," Sita cried, " these arms can prove. 
These kisses tell you that my love 
Has greater grown, not less. And all 
Its joy, its gladness, now would fall 
Shattered and worthless, if you dare refuse 
Its service and devotion to so use 
As shall employ it greatly, and to bless 
Your last years with its wifely tenderness. 
Say! Oh say, Simla! do you grant 



140] SIMLA 

My ardent plea? May I supplant, 
As Sita wife, Vida the seer? 
May I in true light now appear 
As your dear mate, your life to share, 
Your name and pledge again to bear? 
Tell me your verdict, oh be quick 
To speak! My heart is weary, sick 
With longing only your words can heal.' 



Now Simla's seeing fingers steal 
Again their way on Sita's face, 
" Of manly love, such a disgrace 
As helpless brings me now to use 
You as a servant, I should refuse, — 
Did I not feel your features speak 
True joy in service. Such a strong 
And earnest plea I should do wrong 
To hinder. I know you speak the truth 
In telling of your love. The proof 
Lies in your eager voice, your lips 
So warm, your smile that slips 
As of old its way upon your features. 
Yes, I accept your offer. Dear, 
Dear Sita ! you shall dwell as near 
As flesh to flesh may dwell, the whole 
Of life remaining. Soul to soul 
With me to live, breast to breast. 
Till we on Brahm's great bosom rest. 
And you can daily to me prove 



SIMLA [141 

In what respect a woman's love 
Surpasses man's. 

For I begin to see 
That woman has more capacity, 
More power of service, than a man. 
For her 'tis easier to span 
The gulf 'twixt flesh and soul. Her heart 
Aches always tenderness to impart 
And to receive. Her very breast 
On which the new bom babe can rest 
And find its food, is nature's sign 
How woman willingly can resign 
Her love to service. Her heart at first 
Does not so impetuously burst 
Its barriers as a man's, but each new day 
It reaches nearer on its way 
To love Divine. To bring some joy 
To husband, children, friends ; to employ 
Daily its powers suffering to relieve, — 
Such is true woman's love, I well perceive. 

I would not such a love reject, 

My Sita. Live with me. Teach me to respect 

The home in love, the flesh in love. 

Your greater wisdom to me prove — 

That you can prove it I trust well — 

How man and wife can spiritually dwell 

In pure chaste love, until that day 

When Death asserts resistless sway 



142] SIMLA 

Upon our bodies. Teach me still 
My soul with your sweet love to fill 
In Devachan." 

He finished and a silence stilled 

The woodland. Sita's heart was filled 

With gladness ; too glad to move, 

Too glad to even show her love 

By any action. Only her prayer went up 

To heaven, that had brimmed her cup 

Of life with joy surpassing all she hoped. 

Then silently her fingers groped 

Their way to Simla's, stroked his hands. 

His face, his hair. And all of love's demands 

Were satisfied ; all her affection stored 

For years without relief, was poured 

Upon him. Simla blindly felt 

Her bosom on his bosom melt. 

Her kisses poured upon his cheek. 

Her tears that would not let her speak. 

Sita to display her joy 

These dumb caresses only could employ. 

Until her heart had poured its all 

Upon her lord. Then on the gods to call 

In grateful praise Sita began, 

Thinking how wonderfully her plan 

Of years ago had been fulfilled — 

More than she dared hope. For so is held 

Dear ever to the gods that soul 



SIMLA [143 

Who lives intent upon a goal 

Of high endeavor ; who constant keeps 

Such goal before him, daily seeks 

The help of heaven, and allows no force 

To move him from the chosen course. 

If one's aim is worthy, all the power 

Of heaven gives protection ; every hour 

Brings one nearer to success. 

Nothing can hold him back who seeks to bless 

Mankind with kindly word and deed. 

For him Fate is as an iron steed, 

Rushing resistless to the destined goal. 

Disaster does not seek a severed soul. 

The child of destiny need never fear 

The chance of failure, — and a seer 

Is watched over by heaven. So Sita found 

The clue to sex, the clue to life, 

The happy service of a wife 

Devoted to her lord. 

Such success does heaven afford 

To all who seek? No. It depends 

Upon the aim ; how one's will bends 

Itself to heaven; whether one's plan 

Fits with the destined march of man 

And nature's striving to progress. 

Such aims the gods do ever bless, 

Such cosmic purpose ever brings success. 

Now of these lovers need we say 
How they lived happy day by day, 



144] SIMLA 

Again domestic incense burned, their life 

Long parted, now as man and wife 

Renewed? How Simla in that place 

Where first he was smit with Sita's grace. 

Ended his days? Still Sita taught 

Her truths to men. Each new day brought 

Some distant pilgrim to her gate. 

And Simla gloried in his mate, 

Nor envied her this godlike fame. 

Thus they lived together and the same 

Year paid their mortal dues to Death. 



And an old tradition saith 
That Simla, ere he died, found sight 
By favor of the gods, and saw again 
The face he loved ; saw clear and plain 
The charm of nature all around, 
Beauty of sky, beauty of flower-strewn ground. 
And back of this seen world, the great Unseen 
He saw — the mystery of Being, 
The essence of Nature, whose real seeing 
Most eyes are blind to. What he saw 
Was more than mortal words express. 
This the gods granted him, to bless 
Him for his patience in affliction. 
His humility in life's contradiction, — 
That, Sita, woman, had been the seer 
From whom he was content Brahm's Truth to 
hear. 



SIMLA [145 

So ends this tale. It is a theme 
Much told in Brahmin-land ; where deem 
They that such steadfast love as this 
Deserves to win its earthly bliss, 
Yea, and a heavenly, too ! 
Can human love exist more true 
Than Sita and Simla at last found? 
And are their lives forever bound 
Together? In some distant sphere 
Of service, do they still dwell as dear 
True help-mates whom the Gods unite? 
Of this, let future ages write. 



THE END 



